


One Night

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Series: One Night [1]
Category: Carol (2015), The House with a Clock in its Walls (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blackmail, Chance Meetings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Meetings, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2019-10-30 22:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 68,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17837558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: Unfortunately Therese wasn't available to accompany Carol on her trip. Almost to Chicago, in the small town of New Zebedee, Michigan, Carol runs into some car trouble. Fortunately some friendly passers-by offer her a bed for the night (albeit not their own), and really, what can change in one night?Jonathan and Lewis are due back from a trip, and against her better judgement Florence goes down to meet them. She finds them talking to a mysterious stranger who is stranded in a snowstorm, volunteering her as a port in said storm. She isn't really happy about it, but it's only for one night. She can put up with anything for one night.Please be aware of chapter notes as fic continues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally saw Carol (I know, I know), and I wanted to explore what would happen if these two met. Which may, admittedly, be an excuse for some gratuitous Cate on Cate fun. I do have some other House with a Clock fics planned, there may even be another one with this pairing (I wrote FIVE different openings to this, you guys. FIVE.), and I have a little House/Marvel crossover planned for more women-loving-women goodness. Because I strongly feel that Florence needs all the hugs, okay? I am working on updates to other fics too, don't worry, there's plenty of good stuff coming down the pipeline including an update for Some Things Are Worth The Wait which has been half-written for a month, and A Little Light Larceny (which nobody reads but which I'm having fun with) if you're interested in a little bit of my backstory for Debbie (like, a long way back. Like high school back.). 
> 
> Full disclosure: as with so many other things, I don't actually have a plan for this, so I don't know where it's going to go, and I can't guarantee how much I'll be able to make of it, but at the very least I plan on running with it for as long as I can. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment and let me know!

Florence drew her coat closer around herself and walked a little faster. At the moment the snow was only just beginning to fall, but one look at the sky said that the winter was going to bite down hard before long. Really, it was only too typical of Jonathan to have the bad manners to be late back. He and Lewis had gone on a trip to visit Lewis' parents' graves, and in honour of the way Lewis had made the trip out to Michigan, they'd decided to go by bus. At least they'd had the good manners to call on the road and let her know they were going to be late, but really. Why she'd bothered to come down to meet them she wasn't sure, except that... well, it was always nicer to be met by someone after a long trip, even when you weren't travelling alone. It reminded you that you were home, or at least somewhere welcome, and although she would never admit it to his face... they were the closest she had to family now, and she had missed them. 

When she was within sight of the bus station she could see that, by some miracle, the bus had apparently arrived a little ahead of schedule. What surprised her was the fact that Lewis and Jonathan appeared to be talking to an exceedingly well-dressed woman with honey-blonde curls which tumbled over the collar of her fur coat, who was standing next to a large pale car, which stood out in the night like a ghost.

She checked both ways and crossed the road, clearing her throat pointedly as she approached. It was Lewis who noticed her first, and threw himself at her at waist-height.

"Mrs Zimmermann!"

"Yes Lewis, hello to you too."

She gave him a hug all the same, ruffling his hair. It had been quiet without the two of them next door, though she'd never give Jonathan the satisfaction of telling him that. Having them back felt like life might finally get back to normal. She straightened up into Jonathan's embrace and sighed, making eye contact with the woman over his shoulder and seeing a glimmer of humour in her eyes, a hint of a smile curving on her lips. 

"Yes yes, it's wonderful to see you both again, now if you could give me a little space to breathe-"

She stepped through Jonathan and Lewis and offered a smile. 

"...Excuse me, perhaps I'm overstepping. You seem a little lost, might I be of help?"

"Hey Florence! This is Mrs Aird, we just got talking since she was stranded here when we arrived. Her car's having trouble. She's headed for Chicago but she missed the last bus and there's no way we can get that car going tonight. Unfortunately it looks like the hotel is full, and we were thinking maybe she could stay with you tonight?"

Florence sighed, though she did offer the woman a smile, not wanting to seem too unfriendly. 

"Oh, did you?"

She could see the sense in it, her own place was at least superficially more normal than Jonathan's house, but it did feel a little like being the wife expected to host on short notice, and it was even more presumptuous given the platonic nature of their relationship and the fact that they apparently hadn't even volunteered their own house. 

"I told them not to worry, I'm sure I'll be able to find something. I couldn't ask a stranger to host me, particularly not on such short notice. Why, if I have to, I could always sleep in the car somewhere out of the way..."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's far too cold for that. Unfortunately they're always like this. I suppose in some ways it's nice to know nothing's changed. However, on the understanding that if Jonathan ever tries something like this again I will turn his saxophone into a snake, I would be happy to invite you back to my home, Mrs Aird."

"Carol, please."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Carol. Please call me Florence."

"...Thank you, Florence. I'm delighted to meet you too."

"There. Now we're not strangers anymore. Though it pains me to say it, Jonathan is rather good with cars so perhaps he can come down and take a look tomorrow. It'll be much easier in the light. When he can't fix whatever's wrong with it, there's a mechanic in town I hear is rather good. If you'd care to give your bag to Jonathan, since he's the one who rather engineered this situation and therefore he can at least carry the bags... it's not a long walk, at least, and there's plenty to eat."

"Oh awesome, you made us dinner?"

"No, Jonathan, I did not make /you/ dinner, but I know from past experience that nothing you would offer Lewis would contain anything resembing a vegetable, and it's easier to cook larger portions of things. I'm merely stating that there /is/ dinner, and if prevailed upon politely I might share."

Carol laughed, clear and musical against the snow, and Florence glanced back to offer her a smile. She didn't host very often at all, hadn't for years, actually. At this point Jonathan and Lewis were different, and it had taken a long time for Jonathan to fall into the category where he didn't really count anymore. She had lost so much with the war, not only family, but friends, and when she had escaped... it had been with nothing. In some ways it had been easier to build a new life from nothing, with nothing to remind her of her old life and make her heart ache. It had been a long time before she could even bear to have the picture up of who she had once been, and longer still after that before she could look at it and smile rather than cry. It might be nice to have someone else in the house, even for a night, another woman, someone civilised. 

"You've been friends a long time, then?"

"Oh, ten years or so. We're neighbours."

"I see, how wonderful."

"That's certainly one word for it."

Carol laughed again, and Florence found herself smiling once more. There was something about her that made her feel at once on edge and entirely at ease. It was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach and she tried to dismiss it. This was a good deed, nothing more. She knew all about the value of the kindness of strangers, and how quickly it could turn. 

"Alright, well, you two go wash up and dump your things. I expect you over in fifteen minutes, and ready for dinner."

Thanks Florence, we'll be there!"

"Thank you Mrs Zimmermann!"

The two boys ran off into the house, and Florence watched them go fondly before she turned her attention to Carol and smiled, a little self consciously. 

"Please, lead on..."

"Of course, this way..."

Florence lead Carol to the next house, trying not to feel too self-conscious about it. Suddenly seeing it from an outsider's point of view it did seem very... purple.

"You have a lovely home."

"Oh, thank you, really it's..."

"It is very kind of you to open it to me. I do appreciate it very much."

Florence unlocked the door and walked in, glancing around hurriedly for anything obviously out of place as Carol followed her across the threshold, setting her case down and looking around. 

"You must be exhausted. It sounds like you've had a very long day. Would you like something to drink or anything? Please do make yourself comfortable, I'll just go and make a bed up for you."

"I really do feel so awful for putting you to such inconvenience..."

"Oh no, please... may I take your case up for you?"

"Really, I can bring it..."

"It's quite alright."

"Well... thank you again. I had felt like I had rather fallen on hard luck but I suppose bumping into your friends is rather more like falling on my feet..."

"Well, we do try to be welcoming. I won't be long. May I fetch you a glass of water or anything?"

"...Water would be divine, thank you."

"Something stronger?"

"...Perhaps some vodka, if you have any?"

Florence smiled, setting her hat and coat on the rack and turning to take Carol's.

"Of course... please do go through. It is a very comfortable couch, I assure you."

She crossed to the little drinks cabinet and poured a measure of vodka, handing it to the woman who looked... a little worn around the edges. Oh, on the surface, she was perfectly put together, there was no doubt about that, but Florence knew what shadows looked like underneath a facade. 

"Here... I'm afraid I don't have a shower, modern conveniences like that haven't really crept this far out of the city but... if you'd care for a bath after dinner, you'd be very welcome."

"I... may take you up on that. Thank you."

"Of course."

The smile she was offered in return crinkled the woman's blue eyes at the edges, and felt... secret somehow. Private, and personal, real. Florence knew what public smiles looked like, she had a whole range herself after all, but that hadn't been, and that was... food for thought as she climbed the stairs to make up the guest bedroom. It was always made, really, a vestige of the times when her world had consisted of more than two other people, knowing that it never would again. She smoothed out the sheets, taking a few deep breaths and soothing herself with the feel of the soft fabric under her hands. She aired the bed out, shook the pillows, and fetched a set of towels to leave at the foot of the bed. It would be strange to have someone staying again, but she felt... strangely at ease with the thought.

She was pulled out of her reverie by a knock at the door, and took a moment to smooth the sheets once more before hurrying down the stairs. It was time for dinner, and whatever happened, it was almost certainly only going to be one night. She could manage one night.


	2. Chapter 2

Carol was already on her feet again by the time Florence reached the door, and she offered a reassuring smile as she answered the door. 

"Well well, and for once you're hardly late at all... Come in then boys."

Lewis was the first across the threshold with another quick hug at waist-height, which still took Florence a little by surprise, but she gave him a squeeze and nodded at Jonathan when he followed his nephew across the threshold and in. 

"What's for dinner?"

"Baked ham with potatoes and green bean casserole."

"Oh, amazing. Thank you."

"And you're really sure it's no trouble for me to join you?"

Carol asked, hanging back a little awkwardly, martini glass held near her lips for a shield as much as for convenience. 

Florence looked at her. 

"You are by no means the person who is least welcome at this table."

Carol chuckled a little and drained the last sip of her vodka.

"Well, thank you. That's quite the compliment."

"You may say that now, but you've hardly met Jonathan yet."

The three of them followed Florence through to the dining table, and in an uncharacteristic show of chivalry, Jonathan pulled Carol's chair out for her. Florence was perfectly aware that if he offered to do the same for her, she would probably end up on the floor. Instead, she served up the dinner, glad that it would indeed stretch to the four of them, and set out the plates. 

"I'm afraid it probably isn't what you're used to, but I hope it will at least do something against the cold."

"It is bitterly cold tonight, and it looks delicious. Thank you. You must give me the recipe."

"Mrs Zimmermann really is a wonderful cook. She makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the whole world."

"Oh, now that is a recipe I really must have..."

"Oh you're too kind... but I'll gladly write it down for you."

"I'm sure my little girl will love it."

There was a beat as Florence felt her heart twinge, but she managed to drag her lips up into a smile anyway. 

"...You have a little girl? How wonderful."

"Yes, I... she... lives with my husband. Ex... husband."

"...I'm sure she must be delightful."

"Oh, yes, she is. I'm sorry, I... well, she must be a few years younger than you, Lewis. You're a fine young man. How old are you?"

"Thank you Mrs Aird. I'm ten."

"Are you? I almost thought you might be older. You are a credit to your parents."

Another beat of silence, and Carol glanced around the table from under her hair, and then settled back to staring at her plate, a shadow of a sad, brittle smile on her lips. 

"...I said the wrong thing, I'm sorry."

Florence was unprepared for the surge of pride she felt as Lewis straightened up, setting his shoulders and smiling warmly at her. 

"...Thank you Mrs Aird. That means a lot. I try. And my uncle and Mrs Zimmermann both take very good care of me."

"I'm most glad to hear it."

The silence stretched on, and Florence changed the subject as smoothly as she could. As the host it was her responsibility not to let her guests feel awkward, and Carol was far more a guest than either of the two boys next door. 

"Would anyone care for seconds?"

She caught the grateful flash of Carol's gaze and barely nodded in return.

Jonathan decided now was an appropriate time to pipe up.

"Is there dessert?"

Florence shot him a withering look, knowing he was unfortunately immune.

"You don't need dessert, it'll only make your head bigger."

"Please Mrs Zimmermann, are there any cookies?"

"There are indeed, Lewis. Would you like a cup of cocoa to go with them?"

"Yes please Mrs Zimmermann."

"Alright, I'll be right back. Would you be so kind as to help me clear the table?"

"Of course."

Lewis immediately hopped up on his feet and started gathering the plates. Florence smiled softly as she watched, gathering up the others. 

"You really are a polite young man. I credit that entirely to your parents, knowing how your oaf of an uncle has endeavoured to undo their hard work."

Carol made to stand as Florence crossed behind her to collect her plate and Florence gently rested a hand on her shoulder, a light but definite weight. 

"Please... it's alright. Don't worry."

"Oh... I... if you're sure?"

"Please. You're our guest. My guest."

"Yeah... you're not going to let me live that down, are you."

There goes Jonathan again, defusing the tension, and oh but she's grateful as she shoots him a look. 

"Perhaps next time you'll think twice before treating me as a hotel, Mister Barnavelt."

"Alright DOCTOR Zimmermann."

"You're a doctor?"

"Oh, PhD, that's all. I... did my studies in Europe."

"Oh, I see. How wonderful for you. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"What was your doctorate on?"

"Oh... I... like so many other things I'm afraid it would be of less than no interest to someone outside the field, but I do appreciate your interest."

"Of course... I relish the opportunity to get to know somebody so complex."

"I fear you flatter me. Would you care for coffee or anything?"

"Oh, no, thank you. If I have coffee I'll never get a wink of sleep."

"Of course, I understand."

Florence carried the plates to the sink and set them to soak, putting a saucepan on the hob for some milk to make Lewis' cocoa and handing him a tin. 

"Make sure you pass the cookies around, please."

"Of course, Mrs Zimmermann. Thank you!"

Carol offered Jonathan a polite smile and stood, setting her napkin neatly aside and crossing to the sink.

"Are you certain I can't be of assistance? I feel so terrible that I'm adding to your workload."

Florence looked up, meeting her eyes again, and she paused for the briefest moment in what she was doing. There was an ache in those eyes, a sadness and also a fear. Those were all emotions Florence knew very well, and she wondered what had precipitated them in her guest. There was a loneliness about Carol which Florence was drawn to, like a moth to a flame, something fundamental and captivating. She understood loneliness, though superficially there was no reason for Carol to radiate it the way she did. 

"...I am sure, thank you. Though perhaps if you could be so kind as to pour Lewis' cocoa into the mug, I'm sure it should be ready by now, then he and Jonathan can go to their own home and leave us in peace."

"Cranky old crone."

"Go braid your back hair and leave the grown ups to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

When Jonathan and Lewis had finally left, with Jonathan carrying the half-asleep little warlock over his shoulder and pausing only to wave as Florence watched from the doorway, the purple witch felt a brief moment of relief. As much as she loved them, as much as they were family, she treasured her own space and after an evening of excitement and other people she needed a little moment to breathe. 

She shut the door and locked it, although really there was no need for that here. Some habits were still hard to break. When she turned to catch sight of Carol hovering awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall she paused, wondering how it was that she might have felt so relaxed with another person still here, a stranger no less.

The two of them watched each other for a long moment, equally hesitant, although Florence was becoming increasingly aware that she held the power in this situation. 

"...I'm sure you're exhausted. It's been a long and draining day, to say nothing of car trouble and all that excitement. If you're ready to retire, please don't wait up on my account. You're welcome to a hot bath, if it would help, or if you'd like to join me in a nightcap... If you might like to talk at all about... well, anything, I suppose you can rest assured in the knowledge that we will almost certainly never see each other again. There can be a freedom in that, I find."

Carol watched her for a moment longer, seemingly wary, before a slow smile spread across her lips. 

"...Yes, I suppose you're right. If you're sure I wouldn't be keeping you up... I must admit a nightcap sounds most appealing?"

"Of course. Do you have a preference?"

Florence crossed to her liquor cabinet and opened it, staring at the contents. It was well-stocked, another vestige of a time long past and a person she no longer was. 

"I have most things. Personally I think I might have a whisky."

Whisky was a safe choice, sufficiently American, perhaps a little edgy, but enough to provide a safe subject of comment rather than anything more dangerous. 

"Yes, that sounds delightful, thank you."

"Are you sure? There are other options if you'd prefer, perhaps brandy or..."

"Whisky will be fine, thank you."

Florence nodded and poured a couple of fingers into two crystal tumblers, picking them up and offering her guest a careful smile. 

"Perhaps we should adjourn to the living room?"

"Of course. Thank you."

Florence inclined her head in acknowledgement and headed for the sofa, setting her glass down carefully on the corner of the coffee table (on a coaster, naturally), and making room for Carol to join her. The other woman perched awkwardly, but after a few moment seemed to think better of that at least, and relaxed somewhat back against the cushions. 

"...Perhaps I sound like a record on repeat, but I do very much value your kindness and hospitality Mrs Zimmermann."

"Please, at this point I think it has to be Florence, don't you?"

Carol smiled, slow, like honey dripping off a spoon, and inscrutable as she rested her head in her hand. 

"...I suppose so, Florence."

"So... what brings you out this way? Is it... usual to travel at this time of year?"

"Oh, no I suppose not. I'm just... going for a drive, you know? Wherever my car will take me. And apparently, my car brought me here. I rather believe I will be forever grateful for that."

Florence tilted her head, watching, and found that when she replied it came from the heart in a way that took even her by surprise. 

"...You will be welcome here, at any time, should you need it."

Carol blinked, seemingly taken off guard by that as much as Florence was. 

"...Well, thank you. I'm not sure that I've done anything to merit that kindness, but I do appreciate it, very much."

Her voice was low, husky, and Florence was somewhat unsurprised when she nervously fumbled a silver cigarette case out of her purse. That explained things. Florence could remember smoking before the war, in the Paris cafes where there were still so many of her precious memories, shining like jewels, so brilliantly they brought tears to her eyes. 

"I'm terribly sorry, would you mind if I smoke?"

"...Of course, let me just find an ash tray."

"Oh, please, don't worry about it."

"It's no trouble."

"Well... would you like one?"

Florence stared at the small white cylinder. She couldn't remember her last cigarette, or... could she? It was so very much something of the woman she had been, but... it would be impolite to leave her guest to smoke alone, and so after a long moment's consideration, stretching infinitely into silence as she stared at the meaningless little thing, she nodded, picking a little glass dish off the mantelpiece and setting it on the table between them. 

"...Delighted. Thank you."

Carol handed her the cigarette and Florence tried to ignore the shiver of... something that passed through her as their fingers brushed. Their eyes met as Carol lit both, and Florence tried to ignore the flush threatening high on her cheekbones, because this was ridiculous, this was entirely ridiculous. It must be exhaustion. There was no other explanation for this. It was so entirely out of character, and proportion. 

"In answer to your question, I suppose... I needed to get away. I couldn't... be in the city just at the moment. Things are... turning... unpleasant, with my husband, and my daughter, and the thought of being in that empty house alone... well it was too dark to contemplate, so instead I decided to drive. Better than... drinking myself into a stupor or slashing my wrists in the bath."

"...That is very hard. I'm glad you chose this instead."

Another gaze, shy and warm and beautifully intense all at once. 

"...I believe you, when you say that. I do not understand it, but I believe it. Thank you."

"It's human compassion, isn't it?"

She took a drag, and the chemicals hit her brain in a rush which made her reel. Well. She certainly didn't remember it being that strong before. 

"Perhaps... I suppose I should not be so surprised by it."

"It is easy to forget, sometimes."

Florence reached to tap the ash on the rim of the dish, lost in the glowing embers, and brought back to reality once more by the sound of a stifled gasp. She looked up, and felt her stomach drop as she noticed where Carol's gaze rested. Sure enough, her sleeve had ridden up, and there were the numbers indelibly scrawled into her skin, a marker she would never be able to remove. Jonathan had offered, once, but she had turned him down. It wasn't something she wanted to deny, even if the memory felt like a needle in her heart. 

"Oh... I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

"No, I..." Florence tugged her sleeve down and took another drag, chasing it down with a swallow of whisky to follow one burn with another in the vain hope that one might numb the ache in her arm which was no less painful for being psychosomatic. "It's... a common reaction. I keep it hidden for that reason. And some others."

"Of course. I'm sorry."

"...Thank you."

There wasn't a script for that kind of moment. All this time, and she still hadn't worked out what to say when people found out, when they apologised. They didn't really understand. Nobody could. The words feel unnatural falling from her lips, but silence would only make it worse, and at least the emotion was genuine. Her hand shook a little as she set the whisky glass back down on the table, but Carol was too polite to mention it. She needed to change the subject.

"It... can't be easy, being away from your little girl for Christmas. What's her name?"

"Rindy. Nerinda, really, but we never call her that. And it isn't. But it was Harge's choice to take her to his parents. It was his choice to stop me from seeing her."

"He's stopping you from seeing her?"

Florence was surprised, and she tried not to show it. It wouldn't really be kind, and after Carol's gracious reaction to her own secret, prying would hardly be fair. It was a sensitive topic, and one that evidently caused her guest great pain. It was obvious even from the brief conversation they'd had quite how much Carol loved her daughter, and it was hard to conceive of what reason someone might have for denying a parent access to their daughter. Florence could never, ever fail to see it as something cruel except in the most extreme of circumstances. 

"Yes." Carol took a long drag from her cigarette, and in the low light there were tears glinting like diamonds on her lashes through cracks in her facade. 

"We had a custody agreement, and then he changed his mind. Now he's petitioning for sole custody, and as an injunction in place to stop me seeing her until the hearing. If he can't have me... then I can't have her, but I can never be what he wants. I've tried, for years, ever since Rindy was born, before even, I have tried to be what he wants, what everybody wants, but I can't and now... it's costing me my daughter because he can neither accept nor forgive me, even see me as the woman he once loved... because he still loves me, but everything he does to try to force me to love him as I once did, or as I thought I did, as I needed to... it drives us further apart. I couldn't stand to be in the empty house alone."

"I see... I am very sorry."

"...Thank you."

"I know... what it is like to lose a child. I suppose at least you know she is still alive and... I hope, happy."

"Oh, Harge would never be cruel, not to her. He was always a good father... a good husband, too, as far as that goes, but..." A brief, broken smile, "I was never a good wife, for all that I like to think I was a good mother. I am... very sorry to hear of your own loss. I know I cannot possibly conceive of how it could feel, this is only... a small fraction of that grief. What... was her name? His name?"

"Celeste. Her name was Celeste. Celeste Aurelie. Her father's name was Maurice."

Carol hesitated, her eyes wide, though in all honesty Florence appreciated the moment of silence. It seemed fitting, and meant that the other woman was thinking about her response rather than offering empty platitudes. At least she seemed to understand some of the weight of the information she had just been given. Florence couldn't remember the last time she had spoken either of those names out loud, and she felt flooded with hot guilt, as if she'd betrayed them. She had never forgotten them, would never be able to, but talking about it was... beyond her, most of the time. 

"...Thank you. For sharing that with me. I realise it can't have been easy, but I want you to know that I... recognise that. And that I appreciate it, even if I don't know what to say."

"It's hardly the kind of thing that comes up in etiquette classes."

"Would... it be inappropriate to suggest a toast?"

"To whom?"

"To those... loved, but far away?"

For a moment Florence had been unsure what Carol would suggest, but the rightness of those words settles into her bones as she takes a final drag of her cigarette and stabs it out in the dish, picking up her glass. 

"...yes. To those loved, but far away. Thank you."

"Of course."

Behind them, the clock chimed nine, and both women jumped. Florence still had a tension around clocks which was only dissipating slowly. 

"Goodness, is it that time already?"

"I'm afraid so. Would you still like that bath?"

Florence set her glass down, and Carol followed suit. 

"...If you're really sure it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. I'll show you to the bathroom."

"Thank you. You're most kind Florence."

Florence paused on her way towards the stairs and hesitated for the briefest moment before she clasped Carol's arm, forcing the other woman to meet her eyes, relieved when she felt an answering pressure. 

"...You're welcome Carol. You deserve... kindness. The world would be a better place if there was more of it."

"You know, I rather think you're right."


	4. Chapter 4

The water was warm, just the right side of too hot, and the burn of it chased away the lingering chill in her bones as Carol hunched over in the purple bath, arms loosely around her knees. 

Her first observation had been that the bathroom was very much in keeping with the rest of the house. She hadn't realised that fixtures came in such a brilliant shade of purple, but it wasn't entirely inconceivable given the lurid turquoises and pinks she'd seen in other places. The purple was comparatively restful really. 

She could feel the skin of her back goose-pimpling , the tips of her hair wet and sticking to her jawline, but she wasn't ready to relax back into it just yet. That felt a little too vulnerable. Instead, she closed her eyes, rested her forehead on her knees and breathed in the steam and the hint of lavender. It had been Florence's suggestion, and the bottle was on the side of the bath... it really was quite soothing. 

She never expected to end up here, and now it feels terrifyingly like coming to rest. Of course, her car will be fixed in the morning, she'll be able to continue on, to leave this behind and have it fade into nothing more than a dream, but... she almost doesn't want to. This already feels like a dream, in the best way, like she's stepped through a portal into another world where nothing is real. If nothing is real then perhaps she can pretend for a while that Harge isn't taking Rindy away, that Therese had been able to come with her and she isn't fleeing across the country through the winter to get away from demons snapping ever closer at her heels. Coming to rest is dangerous because it gives them a chance to catch up and she isn't sure she's ready to confront them just yet, especially not here, alone. She doesn't even have Abby to fight her corner. And yet... the image of Abby floating in her mind's eye is shifting, lengthening, lightening... her hair first, from brown to blonde, her eyes from brown to blue, and Abby is suddenly Florence and Carol's eyes shoot open as she sits upright in an attempt to dismiss it entirely. 

Florence is... fascinating. There's something about her that captures Carol's attention, a sense of shadows and sharp edges, cracks gilded over to make them beautiful like those Japanese pots she once saw in a museum. Her smile is brilliant but brittle and it doesn't always reach her eyes, and there's steel beneath the softness of her hospitality, something unyielding which makes perfect sense in parallel with the harsh black marks on her arm. 

She barely knows the woman and yet already Carol wishes there was something she could do... but there are some things that can never be undone, and still more that shouldn't be, and she knows really that it would be a grave disservice to deny what happened. She'd seen the news reels. She knows that can't even be half of it, not really. The losses are impossible to fathom, and yet somehow she has the strength to smile, to talk, to... function, to open her home to a stranger in need, knowing nothing about them, and be unfailingly gracious. It's staggering, and Carol knows already that even if she does move on tomorrow she will never forget this woman. She wants to know more, already slightly obsessed- no, not obsessed. Intrigued. Captivated. There are so many more layers to this woman than there were to the shop clerk who'd reawakened parts of her she had so long willed to be dormant. Therese is... was... young and... bewitching, elfin and beautifully strange, flung out of space, but she has her own life and as much as Carol wants to know more, to be part of it... she knows that it might well come to nothing. Florence, though... she would almost certainly be uninterested, horrified, even... but their life experience is so much more aligned... she can't get it out of her head.

She sighed and laid back in the bath, staring unseeing at the ceiling, savouring the lingering warmth of the cooling water on her skin. Really she does need to hurry up. Sleep was blurring on the edges of her mind already and the prospect of bed was blissful. She shifted to reach for the shampoo and wash her hair. The routine was comforting, motions she can go through by rote, even while the rest of her world feels like dancing on an avalanche, hoping the ground doesn't disappear out from under her feet. After all, it's only one night, and nothing lasts forever.

~

The house was quiet as Florence did a final walkround to check everything was locked up safely. She knows it is really but it still sets her mind at rest to check, after Isaac and... everything that happened before. It's a routine that calms her, and she feels the need for that particularly keenly tonight. She doesn't begrudge Carol a place to stay, of course not, and this is certainly preferable to Jonathan's house, but... it is bringing up all kinds of things that had been long-buried, and she isn't sure how to process them all just yet. 

The woman was upstairs in the bath. Walking past on her way to bed, Florence could hear the soft splashing, then the sound of the water draining. She hurried into her room and closed the door behind her to give Carol privacy, leaning back against it as the other woman padded along into the guest room and the door closed. Her body ached, and she didn't understand why. It went beyond weariness to something physical... but there was little enough to be done about it and she took a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain control of herself. 

Her nightdress is at the end of the bed, and it feels more like taking off her armour than she likes to admit as she tugged each pin from her hair and let it cascade down around her shoulders. She feels stiff, her fingers less dextrous than normal, her neck stiff as she tilts it from side to side, testing. This doesn't happen very often, but from time to time... she feels her age, and a lifetime's worth of memories she wishes she could forget. 

She folded her clothes neatly and set them aside, wondering for a moment whether to go back downstairs for a hot water bottle. The night outside is bitter, and one glance through the curtains tells her that the snow is still coming down. Well, if she's making one herself, it's only polite to offer, isn't it? She tries to force the ache down a little more and pulls on her robe, tying it tight at the belt, deliberate and controlled, because even if she doesn't feel it, there's nothing stopping her lying to herself. 

Florence sighed. Usually when she closed the door on the rest of the world, that was it, at least for the night, but of course having a guest means that it isn't that simple anymore. Instead, she picked up her hot water bottle, fetched the spare from the airing cupboard, and knocked lightly on Carol's door. 

It opened a crack and Florence tried not to stare at the sight of Carol so beautifully unguarded, rather holding up the hot water bottle by means of an explanation for the disturbance.

"My apologies. I was just going to make one, since the night is quite so unpleasant. I wondered whether you might..."

"...Thank you Florence, that's very kind. I would appreciate that very much."

"It's no problem, Carol. I'll bring it back up shortly. Would you prefer me to leave it outside your door?"

"Oh, no, please do knock... I'm sure I won't be asleep that quickly anyway."

"Of course..."

The water took a long time to heat, as it always did in these situations, and rather than wait interminably, Florence muttered under her breath and pointed at the pot until it obliged by boiling happily, then she turned the heat off and filled both bottles, wrapping them in towels and heading back upstairs.

She knocked on Carol's door once more, and when the woman opened it to take the bottle their hands brushed again and Florence felt a shock like a static charge, eyes shooting wide for a moment as they stared at each other. Carol's smile spread slowly across her face, inscrutable but warm as the touch lingered a little longer. 

"...Thank you Florence. Good night."

"...Good night, Carol."

The closing of the door left deafening silence in its wake, and Florence stared at the painted wood for a long moment before she shook herself, wrapped her arms around her waist and returned to her own room. It was only one night.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning dawned with the sunshine glinting bright off the snow and creeping past the curtains. Carol woke with a start, wondering where she was. This didn't look like a hotel room, but it wasn't familiar either, and it took her a moment to remember everything that had happened the day before. Well... all things considered, this could have ended much worse. She rose and pulled on her robe, opening the door and going downstairs, wondering whether Florence would be up yet.

Indeed she was, standing at the kitchen counter wrapped in a beautiful silk robe patterned with flowers, pouring coffee from a pot. She glanced up when she heard Carol approaching. 

"Good morning. I hope you slept well. Would you like some coffee? Perhaps something to eat?"

"Coffee would be wonderful thank you."

"Milk? Sugar?"

"Neither thank you. Not for the moment, at least. It might wake me up that way."

Florence chuckled and handed her a delicate cup. 

"Here. I tend to like it rather strong, so if you do find you need some milk it's just in the refrigerator."

"Thank you."

"Would you like something to eat?"

"What are you having?"

"It feels like a good morning to make pancakes. Do you like pancakes?"

"I do, thank you. I hope you're not going to all that trouble just for me though."

"Don't worry. We both need to eat."

"That's true..." Carol smiled, sitting at the table, legs crossed gracefully beneath her, "...Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

"Oh, it's no trouble. Perhaps after breakfast since the storm has quietened down we can walk down and ask Jonathan to take a look at your car?"

"Perfect. Thank you."

"Not at all. Would you like some eggs? Bacon?"

"Just pancakes is fine, thank you."

"Of course."

Florence put the coffee pot within reach and made some pancakes in comfortable silence. Carol sat at the table and watched, knowing she should be thinking about other things, there were so many things to think about, but the sight of this incredible woman, her hair already neatly up where the night before it had tumbled in a cascade of almost white-blonde down around her shoulders, bathed and painted in sunlight as she moved, every action perfectly controlled and precise with nothing spared as she made breakfast. Although she would hopefully be moving on later today, she would never regret meeting Florence. 

The pancakes were a perfect golden-brown, served with syrup and jam, and Carol finished her stack with a satisfied sigh. 

"Well, I must say that was absolutely wonderful."

"I'm glad."

"I must insist that you at least let me do the dishes in return."

"...Well, if you're sure... thank you very much, I feel like I'm not being a particularly gracious host."

"I'm hardly a normal guest, and you've been very good to me with little enough to show for it in return."

"...In that case, thank you very much. I'll go and get dressed."

"Of course."

When they were both dressed and ready (and Carol did so admire Florence's wardrobe. She didn't think she had enough confidence to pull off such a bold colour scheme.), the two of them walked next door to fetch Jonathan. 

He answered the door in... what looked very much like a robe of his own, and Florence sighed. 

"...Do you really think your ridiculous kimono is appropriate for the weather? Let alone the company?"

"...Fiiiiiine. I'll put on a coat."

"Good."

Florence glanced at Carol and smiled tentatively. 

"...I do apologise for him."

"Oh it's no trouble at all. Are you still willing to perhaps take a look at my car Mr Barnavelt?"

"I'd be delighted, Mrs Aird."

The three of them walked into town, and Carol and Florence looked on as Jonathan popped the hood and began investigating the engine. After some considerable time, going back and forth, under the hood and under the body itself, Jonathan emerged, slightly dishevelled and oilstained, with a morose expression. 

"...I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. The mechanic might know better than I do though."

"Perhaps we can call him from the bus station. I'm sure they have a telephone directory and a public booth."

"I'll try. I do appreciate your efforts, Jonathan."

"You're welcome, Carol. I'm only sorry I wasn't more successful."

After calling the mechanic and waiting for him to arrive, Carol and Florence left Jonathan with him and retreated to the coffee shop across the street to wait in the warm. It was another hour before the men returned, but their expressions didn't fill either of the ladies with hope. 

"...Unfortunately you need a new part Mrs Aird. I certainly don't have one on me, there may be one at the shop but it's likely we'll have to order one. With all these storms shipping could take a while."

"...I see. How long would you say it might take?"

"Up to a week I'm afraid. We can tow your car back to our garage for the moment, and let you know when it's ready?"

"...Yes, thank you." Carol sighed and offered a resigned, weary smile, "I suppose perhaps I should see whether the hotel has any vacancies..."

"Why?"

Florence finished her coffee and set the cup down, smiling warmly. 

"Well, I couldn't impose on you for so long. As it is I recognise how kind you were to take me in."

"You're by far the least troublesome houseguest I've had for a long time. Why spend your money? I'd be happy for you to stay as long as you need."

"...Thank you. I don't think I will ever be able to repay you."

"Don't worry about repaying me, but pay it forward when you have the chance."

"I will."

"Alright, well, shall we pay and return to the house then, since it doesn't look like you're leaving just yet?"

"Yes, thank you, but I must insist this is my treat. Do you need anything from the store at all while we're in town?"

"It probably would be a good idea to resupply if the storms are supposed to be this bad."

"Then please, let it be my treat. Perhaps I could even cook you dinner?"

"...That isn't necessary, but it is a kind thought, thank you. Shall we?"

"We shall."

~

The sunlight was streaming in between the blinds, beautifully outlining in stark stripes of gold and black the tableau before her when Florence walked into the living room later that afternoon. Carol was sitting on the sofa, her legs folded beneath her as beautifully perfect as always, in a blue dress that matched the colour in her eyes, drawing on a cigarette like an oxygen cylinder and glaring daggers at the telephone. The ash tray in front of her was full, almost but not quite to overflowing, and Florence was left with the very definite feeling that something happened while she was busy.

She hesitated a moment before stepping over the threshold into her own living room, feeling almost as if she was trespassing into another’s sanctum. 

“Carol? Is everything alright?”

“He’s a wretch. A worthless, spineless, cowardly wretch. I knew that about him, really, but when we met he was kind. It still amazes me how quickly kindness turns to cruelty. I never imagined he was capable of such things.” She took another drag and stabbed the butt with surprising vigour into the ashes that lingered already in the tray, opened her cigarette case and snapped it shut again with a sigh. “…Just when you think it can’t get any worse, you run out of cigarettes.”

Florence sighed and crossed the room to sit beside her on the sofa. 

“…I’ll ask Lewis to run out and get you some later. What happened?”

“I called… Abby, not Harge. I’ll leave money for the call, I promise. I just… needed to hear a friendly voice, and there’s nothing friendly about his anymore. I wanted to know… how she was, how they were… I wanted to know about Rindy, to hear that she was okay. Harge has been causing trouble, throwing his weight around, trying to find ways to keep me, and I wouldn’t mind the desperation if it only hurt me but he’s drawing others into it who never deserved to be caught up in this mess and I cannot forgive that. I only hope that he never draws you into it too. I don’t think I could forgive myself if, after all your kindness, you were hurt because of me. There has been enough of that aplenty already. Apparently he woke Abby a few nights ago, demanding to see me, demanding to know where I was. The shop girl I was… the girl I met at Frankenberg’s… we had lunch, once, she returned my gloves, I invited her to come out to the country… perhaps it might have been more, but she has her own life to lead with no space for me in it, and I had no right to expect or demand it. I knew… I know how much better she can do than me. I seem to bring nothing but destruction to the lives of those around me despite my best efforts and intentions… apparently Harge engaged a private investigator who started following the poor girl around the city, stalking her every footstep… for heaven’s sake, we did nothing more than talk! Abby said… he restricted my world, confined it to be nothing outside of him and Rindy, but he never could get rid of her, and then… the moment, even as we disentangle ourselves, the moment there is a flash of someone else he chases them away in the hopes of driving me back into his arms. I can’t forgive him for dragging her into this. I can’t. She’s young and innocent. I’ve never minded what he did to me, not really, I could give as good as I got, but… some things cross the line.”

She was shaking, and it was instinct more than thought which led Florence to reach out and wrap her in an embrace. The moment stretched on indefinitely until something shattered, and Carol let out a shuddering sob in her arms, clinging on almost tight enough to hurt as she fell apart.

Florence held her without hesitation until the tears abated, one hand gently rubbing the back of her neck, soothing, anchoring, grounding, and when they finally shifted apart she offered a purple handkerchief which Carol took gratefully. 

“…Thank you, Florence. That was… I’m so very sorry, that was incredibly rude of me.”

“Not at all. I don’t envy you your situation at all. I do… I… perhaps it’s forward of me. You don’t owe me an explanation, and I won’t… push you. You are welcome here, and that won’t change. Why… was your husband so obsessed with this shop girl?”

Carol froze, the fear back on her face, replaced by resignation. Florence was intimately familiar with those emotions, but it was strange to see them so close on someone else’s face. The smile was sad, and the other woman shifted a little, as if to brace herself for the inevitable.

“…With Therese? Because he thought I was sleeping with her, I suppose. And I wanted to, but… she didn’t. It wasn’t meant to be, and so we parted, I hope, as friends. And now you know.”

Her knuckles were white where her fingers were bunched in the fabric of her skirt, anticipating… something. Instead of a slap, or worse, a coldness which would banish the warmth between them she had come to crave, Florence’s touch was gentle, covering her hands, coaxing her fingers loose, taking them from the fabric into a steady hold. 

“… I know. And I’m not rejecting you for it.”

She stared up, tears unfallen in clear blue eyes seeming to magnify them a thousand times caught in her lashes as she struggled for words until at last she found her voice again. 

“…Thank you.”


	6. Chapter 6

The storm that had blown in later that evening as forecast was loud, rain pounding down and making a change from the snow which had been blanketing the world for the last few weeks. Florence stared out unseeing as the lightning flashed across the sky, knuckles white on the windowsill as she remembered another night, almost a year ago now, when she and Jonathan had sprinted up the path to his house, desperate to avert the end of the world. They hadn’t really succeeded, not then. Eventually, of course, things had worked themselves out but they had lived under the shadow of the doomsday clock for months, and without Lewis… without Lewis everything would have ended very differently. 

Honestly the memories still leave her paralysed with fear, and she hates the hold that the memory of Isaac still has over her. Another crash of thunder, right overhead this time, and there’s a crack. It takes a moment for her to realise what it was, and she bites back a curse as the lights flicker back on overhead and she notices the blood running down her hand.

“Florence?”

She looks up to see Carol standing in the doorway, and her eyes are wide, staring not at Florence but at her hand. 

“Oh, goodness… what happened?”

“…I jumped. The storm. Nothing more.”

“…” Carol says nothing for a moment, crossing the room to examine her hand, coaxing Florence to open it so she can take a better look, “…You missed my calling your name a few times before that?”

There’s nothing accusatory in her tone, but Florence closes her eyes tightly, against the pain in her hand, but also against the embarrassment of being found out. This is the problem with living with other people, they notice the things she no longer remembers to keep hidden. 

“I was… remembering. There was a night like this about a year ago when Jonathan and I… when something terrible happened.”

Carol’s grip tightens for a moment, careful at least of the glass in her hand, and her face is set as she waits for Florence to meet her eyes. 

“…Did he…”

“…Oh! No, no, nothing like that. There was… an accident. His best friend and his wife… were killed in an explosion. We found them. We were too late to stop them.”

“…I’m sorry. That’s awful. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom, I’ll help clean your hand up…”

“Oh no, really, I’ll be fine.”

Carol’s smile is soft, and there’s something in her eyes Florence can’t resist as she brushes her fingers lightly over the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. 

“…Please? It’s no trouble… and broken glass is nasty. You can’t pick it all out on your own.”

“…I… thank you. There are tweezers and gauze and bandages. And some antiseptic.”

“Well let’s go before you drip blood on anything in here. At least it’s easily cleaned up in there. And if you tell me where the dustpan and brush is I’ll sweep up the shards too.”

Florence follows, keeping her hand elevated and trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling of the blood, hot and cold at once as it rolls down. The stinging is starting to kick in now, and she’s berating herself for having made such a mistake. At least the glass was cheap, nothing special, not another lost memory. 

She sat down on the closed toilet while Carol searched in the cabinet for what she needed and knelt down in front of her. Florence tried to ignore the blush on her cheeks, because suddenly having this woman on her knees, taking care of her feels… like it means so much more. Her touch is feather-light and tender, and the way she handles the tweezers makes Florence think she’s done this before. 

“…There doesn’t seem to be too much at least, but perhaps soaking your hand in some water and baking soda for the next few days would be a good idea just to coax any remaining splinters out if there’s any I can’t get.”

“…Thank you. You’ve done this before.”

“I did a little nurse training for a while, but I was never very good at it. Some things are just useful to know, and broken glass can be such a risk around the home.”

“…Yes. Thank you.”

And when Carol rested her fingers gently across Florence’s wrist to brace her hand still for the removal, she felt the woman’s pulse leap for a moment, glancing up to eyes almost black with blown-out pupils. 

“…Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

“…I trust you.”

Her voice is soft, and it shakes a little, but her gaze is unwavering all the same. Carol smiled, brushing her fingertips ever so lightly over the spot that makes her pulse jump and noting the way Florence's cheeks flush. 

"Perhaps tonight would be a good time for me to make good on that promise of dinner? It's a little earlier than I'd intended, but..."

She's smiling, soft and teasing only gently, and the relief is enough to make Florence a little light-headed. She tries to tell herself it is just relief, perhaps with blood loss and shock, and nothing more intense about such intimate proximity.

"Thank you. I hope there isn't too much glass in it?"

"Let me see... no, this shouldn't take too long."

Carol took her time delicately removing every shard she could find, cleaning the wound and the blood that had run down her arm, painting Florence's pale skin in dramatic red. Instinctively she was more gentle when cleaning off the streaks which had covered her tattoo. When it came time to apply the antiseptic, Carol gently took Florence's other hand.

"Here. This will sting a little. Hold as tight as you want."

"...Thank you."

Carol winced as Florence hissed at the first wipe of the iodine, eyes pressed close, biting her lip. She cleaned it as delicately as she could and covered the slashes with gauze, bandaging it in place as gently as she could. 

When she looked up again, it was straight into Florence's eyes, and for a moment honestly she felt like she could drown in them, forgetting how to breathe. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and the moment seemed to stretch on until, until... Florence's breath seemed impossibly loud as she sighed in relief, offering a tentative smile that didn't reach her eyes, still fixed on Carol. 

"...Thank you. You do very neat work. If you're certain you don't mind making dinner that would be... very much appreciated. I'm not sure I should be cooking immediately with this hand."

"Of course."

Carol stood smoothly, brushing off her skirts and putting the materials away in the cabinet again, washing her hands.

Florence watched her for a long moment before standing and leaving her in private.

~

After dinner, Carol stood to clear the table, an apron tied neatly around her waist, feeling astoundingly at home in this kitchen which she'd been in for barely twenty four hours. 

Florence sat, watching, quietly. 

"...Thank you for dinner. That was delicious. May I have the recipe?"

"Of course. I do flatter myself that I make a rather good chicken a la king."

"I'm sorry to ask you to do so much for me."

Carol smiled, tilting her head as she pulled on the washing up gloves and turned on the tap. 

"Really Florence, it's hardly a lot to ask. You were kind enough to take me in and let me stay, and then you hurt yourself. It's no different to what I'd be doing at home, really, but you're a more appreciative audience."

Florence laughed softly. 

"I am... the least I can do is take care of dessert. There should be some chocolate chip cookies in the tin."

"Excellent. Shall I put on some coffee?"

"...I... think perhaps something stronger. And a coffee. If that's not too much trouble?"

"Of course not. Perhaps I might join you?"

"I'll fetch the drinks... would you like whisky again?"

"What were you planning to have?"

"Brandy, I think. I have a rather fine one for... special occasions and steadying my nerves. I feel after today my nerves certainly need steadying."

Carol laughed and scrubbed the plates clean. 

"Brandy sounds lovely."


	7. Chapter 7

She had never been a heavy sleeper, and the sound of half-muffled sobs being torn from another’s lips was enough to rouse Florence. She was on her feet, in slippers and her robe almost before she could think. It was an instinctive inability to turn her back on pain. Perhaps it had come with being a parent, perhaps it had always been there, but everything that she’d been through had only reinforced the necessity of empathy. Even then, she hesitated a little outside Carol’s door. The sobs were louder here, it was definitely the other woman in distress, but this was quite the step to take and there might perhaps be no going back. 

She took a deep breath, knocked softly on the door to announce her presence, and pushed it open.

Carol was sitting up in the bed, the little lamp on the table beside her turned on, providing a little pool of friendly yellow light. There was a wildness in her eyes, her arms wrapped tight around herself, and she looked up at Florence with a flash of fear passing across her face which was quickly suppressed. 

“O-oh… I’m- I’m sorry. I- didn’t mean to disturb you…”

“It’s alright…”

Florence crossed the floor quietly, hesitating only a moment before she perched on the edge of the bed, close enough for Carol to reach out and touch if she wanted, but not invading her space. 

“What…”

She doesn’t really know how to ask the question, how to find the words. With children it’s easy, with Celeste, or even with Lewis, but with this woman with curls like honey, who holds herself wound so tightly, wrapped in pearls and lipstick and perfume as shields against the world Florence doesn’t know how to ask. 

“A nightmare. Nothing. Foolishness, I’m sorry.”

Her next words are chosen carefully. 

“Sometimes it can take the sting out of the shadow to put words to it. There’s all manner of darkness which can be scattered by shining a little light on it.”

Carol’s answering smile is shaky, shivering and damp, painfully fragile but there all the same. 

“…I suppose. Thank you. Are you sure you don’t…”

“I don’t mind.”

And she doesn’t. 

“…I dreamed that I went to see Rindy and she didn’t recognise me. She didn’t know me at all. She treated me as a stranger and turned her back, and I… felt like dying. Like I’m doing this all wrong.”

Florence could feel her heart aching. She could imagine how it would feel to lose a child like that, a very different loss to her own but a loss all the same that burned with the ice-cold cruelty of a knife. She reached for Carol’s arm, the one closest to her, grasping her forearm in an attempt to offer comfort which wasn’t enough. Instinctively, she shifted, moving closer, closing the distance between them and drawing the other woman in, half-expecting rejection but knowing how much this was needed. There were no words which could salve a pain like that, even if it was imagined. It had the potential to become all too real. 

To her surprise, Carol leaned into the embrace eagerly, almost desperately, and tucked her head against Florence’s shoulder as the woman’s arms slid around her waist. Her slim form was shaking, shivering, and Florence drew her closer still without a word, determined to impart what comfort she could in the face of a terrible fear. 

She held Carol until the shaking stopped, feeling the tension bound up in her bones, in every inch of her, so taut it felt almost like she might snap at any moment. As the fear eased, thick in the air, Florence slowly began to ease back, her hands gently stroking over the unyielding muscles of Carol’s back, trying to soothe them a little, working what little magic she could through touch, enough to be undetectable but hopefully to ease a more peaceful slumber. 

When Carol finally shifted back from her shoulder, her eyes were red but clear now, steady, and her smile was tentatively grateful.

“…Thank you, Florence. I’m sorry I disturbed you, but… I… appreciate that more than words can say.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I heard you. I’m glad I came to help you. Will you be able to sleep alright?”

“I think so.”

“If you need me, please don’t hesitate? I would be pleased to… help you again, should you find yourself…”

Carol took her hands, eyes steady on Florence’s as she held them for a moment, the small smile beautifully warm and real. 

“…Thank you. And if there is anything I can do for you, I hope you will not hesitate to ask in turn.”

“…I won’t.”

The words are soft, barely a whisper, but painfully honest all the same as Florence stood once more and returned to her own bed, lingering in the doorway for just a moment longer as Carol settled down into the pillows and turned off the light, returning the room to darkness. So many things in the gloom feel less than real and perhaps in the morning this will seem like a dream, but at least it is a good dream.

Florence lingered for a long moment outside her closed door, deep in thought, conflicted. She seemingly came to a conclusion and traced a sigil on the door with her hand. It wasn't much, but it might do something to help. She's familiar enough with the spectres of nightmares, and it's simple enough to offer what protection she can. As she returns to her own room and closes the door, she finds herself pondering whether she still has the materials for amulets tucked away somewhere. She hasn't made one for years, has barely thought about it... and the last ones she did make didn't offer the protection they were supposed to. They betrayed her then, how can she be certain they won't betray Carol too? Of course... she has to remember, to try to remember that the evil they failed in the face of was truly, staggeringly dark. She'd never designed them for that. 

Perhaps she can make something small for Carol, and then... if it seems to work, or at least, not to make things worse... she can offer her something for her daughter. It's strange to be thinking of this again, to want to go back to it when she hasn't considered it even for Lewis, but... there's something about Carol that speaks to her, calls up half-forgotten memories of the woman she had been once. 

As she retires, thoughts of the properties of amulets and their design spin through her mind. 

~

The rest of her night is surprisingly peaceful, and when Carol goes downstairs the next morning it is to the welcome sight of Florence in a robe and an apron, cooking a pan of eggs and bacon. 

"The coffee's in the pot... How was the rest of your night?"

"Very restful, thank you. I... feel I must apologise again. That's... not like me, I assure you."

"It's entirely understandable, really, given everything you have going on at the moment."

"Oh, goodness, how's your hand? I'm sorry, you shouldn't have had to..."

"It's doing much better today thank you. I credit your excellent first aid skills."

Florence glanced up with a smile as Carol came to stand next to her. 

"Are you really certain there's nothing I can do to help?"

"I am. Although... I will need to wash my hair later and that will be... I hate to ask, but perhaps, if you wouldn't mind..."

Carol's smile is warm and real, and the sun makes her honey-blonde hair impossibly sweeter as she stands in the light of the window, and rests one hand lightly, for the briefest moment, on the small of Florence's back. 

"...I would be honoured, if it's something you're certain you trust me with."

Florence's answering smile is equally soft and real, gazing into Carol's eyes. 

"...As I believe I told you last night, I trust you."


	8. Chapter 8

"With... the uncertainty of your mechanical troubles, and given the time of year... I was wondering whether perhaps... you might like to stay for the holidays? I admit I don't celebrate much, though I usually make some small concessions... people... can be suspicious and judgemental. I find it a small price to pay for flying under the radar. They already think me strange enough, and I find... things that draw attention to me make me very uncomfortable."

Florence stopped herself, flexing her fingers and pressing her palm flat to the table as she took a sip of coffee and offered Carol a self-conscious smile. 

"...Sorry, that rather... got away from me."

Carol smiled warmly in return, and reached out to cover Florence's hand gently with her own.

"I understand. It can happen, and I understand what you mean about people. They can be... well. I might not have faced the same consequences as you, but I know how they can be. If you're really certain you wouldn't mind... I would very much like to stay. But I must insist that you allow me to pull my weight."

"The consequences you've faced are grave enough. I don't really understand them, but people's hatred and intolerance for difference is something I've come to accept as a sad fact nonetheless."

"You're so very right. What do you usually do, if I may ask?"

"Well... honestly, not much mostly. If you'd like to attend a service I'm sure there is one nearby, though I... would prefer not to go with you. This is Lewis' first Christmas without his parents though, and here in New Zebedee, so Jonathan and I had been discussing... spending the day together, trying to make sure he has a good experience. I... understand if, with your daughter so far away you might prefer... not to?"

"No I... would be honoured to be a part of it, thank you. You really don't have to go to such trouble to make space for me."

"We would be happy to have you."

"In which case... perhaps we could go into town later? I have some gifts to buy."

"Oh no, please, nobody would expect that of you. You're already having a terrible time of it."

Carol set her cup down and gently squeezed Florence's hand. 

"It's the least I can do."

"Well... in which case... thank you. You truly are... a most impressive woman, Carol Aird."

"I hardly feel I measure up to you, Florence Zimmermann."

~

The town is bustling, at least as much as it ever bustles, and the two of them attract a few stares. Florence is used to the stares anyway, but there seems to be a new dimension to them at the neighbourhood... well, she knows what they call her, even if thus far she's tried desperately to avoid confirming their suspicions, at /her/ of all people walking around with a glamorous city woman. Carol almost looks out of place here. There's a radiance about her Florence can't quite explain, a light at once both warm and cold, and she can't quite look away from the way the sun shines in her hair and paints shadows on her face.

"Perhaps we could start together, and then separate for a while?"

"Of course. If we begin at the locksmith I'll get you a key cut so you can come and go as you please without having to worry about me?"

"Oh, are you sure?"

"Of course. I'd offer you my spare but Jonathan has it."

"That's very kind. I don't take it lightly."

"Of course. After that perhaps we should start with Lewis?"

"Wonderful. I would very much appreciate your guidance for Lewis and Jonathan. I would like to get them something but I have no idea what might be welcome."

"I'll help as much as I can. Would you... perhaps be willing to advise, and perhaps assist with the food? I'm not... so certain what's traditional, and Jonathan... isn't much of a cook, but Lewis is... it's important to get this right for Lewis."

Carol smiled, brushing her gloved fingers over the back of Florence's hand in a brief, subtle gesture of acknowledgement and support. 

"I would be happy to. We don't have long though, I suppose. What would be a good present for Lewis?"

Florence paused, considering. She already knew what she was planning to get for Lewis, but it certainly wasn't something that would sit right coming from a stranger, and he already had plenty of dictionaries. 

"...Perhaps a thesaurus? He likes words. I think he would enjoy that. As far as Jonathan's concerned I think perhaps a joint present from the two of us to him of taking care of the cooking, don't you?"

Carol laughed, beautifully musical, and Florence couldn't help but stare a little at the way she tilted her head back and the light in her eyes. 

"I think that sounds perfectly fair, thank you. Perhaps we might split up, and then meet together at the grocery store again for the ingredients for dinner?"

"That sounds ideal. Perhaps at 12? We could then also have some lunch before we go back. I know it can be a little... well, claustrophobic to be in the house all day, and that's when it /is/ your house, I can't imagine how much more uncomfortable it must be for you. I'll go and get your key cut and pick up a few things, and then meet you at the little cafe in the department store at 12 so we can lunch and then pick up the food."

Carol smiled, taking her hand for a moment, a lingering touch of friendship which still made Florence's heart skip a little. 

"...Perfect. I'll see you in about an hour then..."

"Wonderful."


	9. Chapter 9

Carol begins by searching out the little bookstore. It certainly is well-appointed, and although it's small it seems to have everything. After a few minutes looking around, wondering whether Florence might like a book and trying to remember if she'd seen any around the house, she approached the clerk behind the desk. 

"Excuse me, I wonder if you could help me please, I'm looking for a thesaurus?"

"Of course ma'am, we have a number of thesaurus, dictionaries, and encyclopedias. Would you care to follow me this way?"

Carol followed him back to a shelf full of reference books, scanning them. They ranged from huge tomes bound in leather and decorated to more thinner and brightly coloured volumes meant for children. Lewis was young, it was hard to tell what might be most appropriate but she had a feeling somehow that he had rather outgrown the ones aimed at a younger audience and was more of an age where he might need a reference book to grow into. Besides, if it was a real suggestion to get him a thesaurus for Christmas, then she had to assume that he liked such things. 

"Is there one you might recommend?"

"It really depends what you're looking for. If you're looking for something mid-range and serviceable I might go for this one, if you're looking for a more comprehensive volume then really this one can't be beat..."

"...Thank you. I'll take the second one."

The clerk took it down from the shelf and returned to the desk, Carol on his heels.

"Alright ma'am, that will be thirteen dollars. Would you like it gift-wrapped?"

"Is that extra?"

"No ma'am, it's all included in the price."

"In that case, yes please. Do you happen to know if there's a jewellery store or such like around here? I'm new in town."

"Your best bet is probably the department store ma'am, I believe they have a jewellery section."

"Of course. Thank you very much."

"My pleasure ma'am, have a lovely day now!"

"And you."

She walked back out onto the street, drawing her coat closer around herself and looking around. The snow was already falling again, and it was most definitely going to be a white Christmas it seemed. 

The department store was smaller than Frankeberg's, but it still had everything in it, and Carol made her way to the small jewellery department. She wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for, knowing at the same time that it would be delicate to get it right. Florence would tell her that she didn't need anything, but she had been... so far above and beyond kindness that it only seemed... fair. Carol couldn't quite put her finger on why exactly it was so important to her to find a gift which would be... appropriate to express her... gratitude, and her hope that perhaps they might stay friends even when all of this was over. She was starting to realise that she needed more friends.

The clerk was a woman this time, young with bright eyes and dark hair, and all of a sudden Carol was transported back a week in time and almost a thousand miles away to that moment her eyes had met Therese's across the floor and everything had begun spiralling so spectacularly out of control. 

"Ma'am? Excuse me? Ma'am? Is there something I can help with?"

"Ah... yes, perhaps. I was looking for a necklace. Nothing too expensive, but something... elegant. In purple. Do you have anything you can show me?"

"Well, we certainly have a few things ma'am... did you have anything more specific than that, or...?"

"Just show me what you have, I'm sure I'll know it when I see it. Though I do apologise for being awkward about it."

"Not at all ma'am."

The young woman turned and bent, gathering trays and boxes to show her their contents, and Carol inspected them. It was hard to put a finger exactly on Florence's style. It wasn't quite the same as her own, but then, it wouldn't be. Out here the trends always took a while to catch up and Florence... didn't seem to have to put on a face in the same way. Harge had always been keen on buying her jewellery. 

She discounted a chain of small amethysts rather quickly. It didn't fit somehow. She moved on from the purple discs, charmingly reminiscent of the last decade almost as quickly. The others were harder to choose between. There was one which was almost floral, mostly purple with hints of pink and pearl, and another which was also a mixture of purples and pinks. Then her eye caught an unusual pendant, half tucked away at the back of one of the trays. 

"...Let me see that one, please?" 

She pointed, and the salesgirl lifted it up for her. It was all Carol could do not to reach out and trace the lines of it with her finger right then and there. It was art nouveau, elegant and curved with two amethysts flanked with pearls, and although she certainly hadn't seen Florence wear anything like it, at the same time it seemed to fit with a woman who had spent at least some time before the war in Paris. 

"...Yes, that one. That's perfect. Could you tell me how much it is, please?"

"Certainly ma'am..." She turned to her records and flicked through, frowning after a moment, "...It doesn't seem to be here ma'am, let me page a manager and we'll see what we can do for you?"

"Thank you."

In a matter of moments a manager appeared behind the desk and the two of them searched increasingly frantically through the records. After a few minutes the manager sighed and smoothly took over the transaction. 

"...I do apologise ma'am, we don't seem to have a record of that particular necklace anymore. It must be an old line that we somehow missed clearing. Perhaps I can offer you a deal? Would ten dollars be a fair price to you?"

"Certainly. And could you wrap it for me please?"

"Of course ma'am. Would you have any preference in colour or detail?"

"Perhaps purple? To complement the contents?"

"We'll get that wrapped up for you now ma'am."

"Thank you."

Carol paid with a smile, waiting and taking the bag when it was handed over. 

"I'm sorry but do you have the time?"

"It's just coming up to 12 o'clock ma'am."

"Thank you. Would you be able to let me know where your cafe is?"

"Certainly ma'am, it's just up on the first floor. If you take the stairs and then take a right, it should be straight ahead."

"Thank you."

Carol glanced at the counter, making sure she'd remembered her gloves this time, and headed for the cafe.

~

True to her word, after they separated, Florence headed for the little handyman's shop where he cut keys. It was strange really, all this time and she'd only ever had one spare cut, given to Jonathan although he didn't need it really. It had been symbolic, a recognition that their friendship had reached that level, that she trusted him. She was fairly sure Jonathan had passed the key onto Lewis now, and she didn't mind that at all. She liked the idea of Lewis having it, really, of being a safe space for him if he needed it. She didn't want him to ever feel like he was alone or had nowhere to go. He deserved so much better than that. If Jonathan hadn't passed the key on after all then... maybe when Carol was gone she could pass this one on to him. After all, there would be no point in Carol keeping it. 

That done she wondered what to do next. She had already decided that it was only right to buy Carol a gift. Something small. Well, really, it was a chance to test her powers again, to see what she could remember. It wasn't about the gift really, not the physical thing itself, but... she wanted to see whether the magic she had once been able to do, the spells of protection she knew better than anyone else, whether they still... even worked. If they did, perhaps she could offer something to help keep Carol's daughter safe too, to stop that nightmare ever coming true. 

Jewellery was an obvious choice, something which took enchantment well and which could so often pass without notice. Perhaps some earrings? Carol seemed to like earrings. She could enchant them tonight in time for tomorrow, at least if things went to plan. She had time to visit the jewellery counter and at least investigate before she was supposed to meet Carol for lunch. 

"Good morning, could I please see some earrings? Anything you have with some amethyst in it perhaps?"

She can't help but stick to her colour scheme, hoping perhaps that the choice will be a reminder that makes Carol smile sometimes when they've gone their separate ways. Besides, amethyst has always been amenable to protective magics, and worked rather well with her own. After all this time she'll need all the help she can get. 

The salesgirl brings out a selection and Florence inspects them. There aren't many to choose from, it's only a small-town department store after all, but she doesn't have time to order something from a catalogue. She runs her fingers over the stones, trying to feel whether there's anything that calls to her, something she can feel. There has to be a compromise of course with something that Carol might also wear, but she has to hope.

Eventually she settles on a pair with purple and pink stones, something which would catch light beautifully from her hair, set off by the curl of it, that would complement one of the elegant dresses she doesn't doubt Carol wears back in her real life, far away from here. It's a different world, but Florence finds herself hoping the other woman can take a part of her back to it. 

"Six dollars, please ma'am. Would you like me to wrap them for you?"

"Oh no, that's fine thank you. Remind me, do you have a toy department?"

"We do ma'am, it's just up the stairs next to the cafe."

"Thank you. Have a nice day."

"Thank you, you too ma'am."

~

When Carol walks into the cafe, Florence is already sitting at a table by the window, a paper bag tucked neatly under her seat. She crossed over to take the seat opposite, tucking her own bags aside. 

"...I'm sorry, I do hope I haven't kept you waiting."

"Not at all. Did you find whatever it is you were looking for?"

"I did, thank you. I followed your suggestion and found a thesaurus for Lewis. I hope that was alright..."

"Oh, more than alright, you didn't have to. I'm sure he'll appreciate it very much."

The waitress came over and Florence turned to speak to her, but Carol interrupted with a well-practised smile. 

"...Coffee, please? A pot for two. And I'll have the creamed spinach over poached eggs. Florence?"

"Oh, the ah... the soup, please?"

"Of course ma'am."

The waitress vanished again and Carol smiled as she lit a cigarette, offering Florence the case, which she refused. 

"...This is my treat, I insist."

"Oh, no, you're my guest, I couldn't..."

"I insist."

"...Well, thank you. That's most kind of you. I... did go to the locksmith, and get you a key cut. Or, a key cut, that you're welcome to use that is, while you stay..."

Florence fumbled in her bag and handed over the envelope, which Carol took carefully, tucking it away into her purse in turn.

"Thank you. I appreciate that very much. I'll return it when I leave, of course."

"Of course. But I don't want you to feel trapped in the meantime."

"Thank you. Oh, here comes the food."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://i.pinimg.com/474x/36/82/f6/3682f693c7debd5c65936a5cef4e1079.jpg - the pendant
> 
> https://di2ponv0v5otw.cloudfront.net/posts/2018/04/13/5ad112f72ab8c5871a59369a/m_5ad113d9a825a67e93fa3fc1.jpg - the earrings


	10. Chapter 10

"So... I confess that somehow it's all rather passed me by, what is a traditional Christmas dinner?"

"Oh, probably turkey with all the trimmings, I think. If we're lucky they'll still have a bird left. If not, then beef goes well as a centrepiece and they might have some left. Potatoes, cranberry sauce, vegetables, gravy..."

"Is there... a traditional dessert?"

"Oh, probably pie of some sort, but it seems such an indulgence when your cookies are so wonderful. This is a... family Christmas, is it not? For Lewis?"

Carol's smile drops for a moment, but somehow her voice is miraculously even when she picks up the thread again. 

"That is to say... not that... a family Christmas, with an... unexpected guest. But it would seem to me to be very fitting that we had your cookies for dessert if you were willing?"

Florence hesitated, and reached for Carol's hand for a moment. 

"...Unexpected, but not unwelcome."

"Thank you. Truthfully it's... better than I'd expected. Rindy was meant to be with me until Christmas Eve but... Harge changed all that. Or perhaps I should say, Harge's mother changed all that. He appeared late a few nights ago and demanded that she go with him then. She was asleep, she wasn't packed, I'd only just bought a tree... I wouldn't have been able to cook really, but I... was considering it? For us on the Eve... I hear it's done that way in Europe often?"

"Often."

"It's just... nice to... have somewhere to be, and people to be with. I can imagine it could have been quite... desolate alone."

"Did you set off alone?"

"I had... invited Therese to come with me. The clerk, from Frankenberg's, but... she couldn't come, or didn't want to. It makes little material difference in the end since she isn't here. I have a friend who would have been willing to come with me, or who I could perhaps have spent the day with, and an offer from one of the few family friends who doesn't hate me, but I... driving seemed more appealing, somehow. Anonymity was a relief, to be frank. There was nothing I wanted to do more than forget myself, and it's impossible to do that when surrounded by people who know you."

Carol glanced away, ducking her head again, covered as it was by a chic hat that matched her scarf, wrapped in her fur coat. Florence wasn't surprised when she looked up again, cigarette case in hand, and offered it. Smoking was often said to be calming to the nerves, and routine and habit could be just as grounding. Given everything going on, it made sense how keyed up Carol was, though there had been those brief flashes where her guard had come down, which Florence was starting to treasure. 

"I'm sorry. Shopping makes me nervous."

"I understand. Shall we get the groceries and then finish up?"

"Please."

~

The rest of the day was mercifully uneventful, and it was only another hour or so before they finally made it home, but both women sighed with relief as they removed coats, hats, and gloves, setting their bags aside. 

"...Well, I'm not sorry that's done."

"Oh shopping on Christmas Eve is never fun, no matter what part of the country you're in. I'm just glad we got the food for tomorrow. What... was there a plan?"

"Jonathan and I hadn't... talked too much about the details yet. I was going to spend the night over there, for Lewis to have that... excitement, I'm sure if we do that, you'd be welcome too, but it might be better for us both to stay here and go over in the morning. Jonathan's house is a little... unorthodox."

"Well... I'm sure I can deal with a little unorthodox? Why not, it sounds fun."

"I'll... let Jonathan know. You'll forgive me if I insist on inspecting whatever he plans to offer us by way of accomodation before we go over?"

Carol laughed, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"Of course... well, shall I perhaps make a start on dinner while you go next door? Or were you expecting to eat there tonight?"

"Oh, no. My limit for exposure to Jonathan isn't high enough for that unfortunately. Though we may well play some poker later if you'd be up for that?"

"Poker?" Carol tapped the ash on the edge of the tray, glancing under her lashes at Florence with a calculating smile on her lips, "Why Florence Zimmermann, you are full of surprises... that sounds like a hoot. I'd be delighted."

"Excellent. I'm sure I won't be long."

"I'll see you shortly..."

~

"This is the guest bedroom Florence. Is it up to your standards?"

"You know it's not, Jonathan."

"Well why don't you just pretty it up then? It's well within your capacity these days."

"Fine, and why don't you go and tell Chair he has to be quiet and well-behaved for the next twenty four hours?"

"She doesn't know yet?"

Florence wheeled on him, brandishing her umbrella.

"No, she /doesn't/ know, Jonathan. She doesn't even suspect. I'm considerably better at flying under the radar than you are, because I've /had/ to, and she /isn't/ going to find out, so why don't you go and do what you can to make this ridiculous place of yours normal for the foreseeable future?"

Jonathan raised his hands, mollifying and teasing all at once. 

"Alright alright! But you better say hi to Chair on your way out or he's gonna be sad. By the way, what happened to your hand?"

"I can't believe I've come to pacifying household furniture. Fine. I will. Now let me get things sorted in here." Florence turned to the room, unimpressed, and then softened a little, glancing back over her shoulder, "I... broke a glass by accident in the storm last night. I was... a little distracted, and the thunder made me jump. It's the first storm that bad since... well."

"Yeah, it was pretty bad huh?"

Jonathan's voice is softer now as he lingers in the doorway, and Florence is still so glad he's here, because as loath as she is to admit it, without him her life would be so much emptier. 

"Is it nasty?"

"It wasn't too bad, mercifully, and Carol cleaned it up and bandaged it for me. I'm glad she's here, I'd be a little useless without her."

"You could always come here, you know that, right?"

She half-turned, enough to offer him a small, real smile. 

"Yes Jonathan, I know that. Thank you."

"Any time, cranky old crone."

"On your way, gorilla groin. Oh, and I invited Carol to join us for poker later. It's always more fun when it's not just you, given the quality of your poker face."

"I'll take that under advisement."

"Good, you should. Maybe one day you'll win."

~

"I suppose it's fit enough for us to risk /one/ night over there... he has a room with twin beds, heaven knows why but in a house that size really there's almost everything. That is..." Florence glanced up from her plate, almost shyly, "If you don't object to sharing?"

Carol answered her with a smile. 

"Of course not... why, it's part of the magic of Christmas, isn't it? To have someone to share the excitement with, to listen out for sleigh bells and reindeer?"

"I suppose so..." Florence drained her glass and rose to clear the table, hesitating as she set the dishes to soak, not looking back as she asked, "Would you... perhaps still be willing to help me wash my hair?"

Soft footsteps and suddenly Carol was beside her, resting one hand gently on her shoulder, the other just barely on her wrist, and Florence was so conscious of how close she was. 

"...Of course. Leave the dishes, it's alright. I can take care of those. You shouldn't really risk your hand."

"Oh, no, I-"

"Please, I insist. I'll take care of them while you wash, and you can give me a call when you're ready for me to come up?"

"...Thank you. I'll do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently it's another three chapter day... You're welcome?
> 
> And yes, I promise, the hairwashing is coming. (I know, I'm evil, I'm sure you'd realised that by now)


	11. Chapter 11

Florence stared at the reflections in the water, trying to work out how she'd ended up in this situation. It seemed so unreal, and yet in so many ways she was more comfortable with the unreal. Magic was familiar to her, even if for the last ten years or so it had been mostly in the abstract. It was a relief to have her power back, honestly, even if she was still working out how to use it again. Carol wasn't magic, though, Carol was real, and she was... normal, in a way that Jonathan wasn't. She was everything about the world that Florence had been avoiding for so long, and yet suddenly here it all was, here /she/ was, in the space she'd kept safe and sacred for so long... shining like the summer sun in the depths of winter and changing everything without even trying.

She dipped her head under the water, trying and failing to clear her mind and pluck up the courage to call Carol and ask her for help. The soap had been bad enough really, but the thought of washing her hair with those slices in her hand was enough to make her swallow her pride. For some reason, even knowing what she does, the thought of being naked in front of Carol, of being that vulnerable in front of another person for the first time in years... doesn't scare her as much as she thought it would, or she would never have asked in the first place.

Well. Every inch of her was scrubbed about as clean as she could manage and she'd run out of reasons to put it off any longer... so she shifted to draw her knees to her chest, arms around them, curled into a ball as if to protect herself from a threat she couldn't identify. 

"...Carol? Are you free?"

She hoped the other woman had missed the way her voice shook a little, and wondered why this felt like such a big step. Perhaps it was because of how... perfect Carol seemed to be on the surface. A city sophisticate, with a wardrobe Florence knew she could never match and an appearance which gave away nothing of the turmoil underneath. She just had to try to remember that Carol had struggles of her own, that despite external appearances she wasn't perfect, but instead beautifully, wonderfully flawed. 

Carol rapped gently on the door before she pushed it open, her honey-blonde curls framing her features perfectly as she smiled. 

"...Are you ready?"

"...Yes. Thank you."

Her dress rustled softly as she walked around to stand behind Florence, resting her hands lightly for a moment on Florence's shoulders, kneeling down smoothly with a grace Florence knew she would never be able to rival again. She closed her eyes, torn between focusing on the feel of Carol's hands on her or pretending it wasn't happening at all. 

"...Is this alright?"

Carol's voice is soft, and she's close enough that Florence can feel the words brush the skin behind her ear, and it's all she can do not to shiver. 

"...Yes. Thank you. I do appreciate... you don't have to do this. You've already been so kind."

"You've been kind to me in turn, and you need a little help at the moment..." Carol combed her fingers gently through Florence's hair, easing out a tangle. "...Would it make you feel more comfortable if I pretended not to see anything?"

"...I'm not ashamed." Her voice is shaking again, but there are echoes in her mind of all of those who told her that she should be ashamed, that she was wrong, in so many ways. For a long time nudity has carried its own baggage and now she's trying to drown out that chorus with her own, unconvincing voice. It's rougher than she meant it to be, harsher, but Carol's touch is still gentle as her hands stroke gently from her shoulders to rest on her upper arms. 

"...Nor should you be. Are you ready?"

"...Yes."

And Carol's touch is almost painfully gentle as she wets Florence's hair, combing her fingers through it, making sure to be thorough as she starts lathering the shampoo through Florence's hair from root to tip, taking her time because she can sense, somehow, that the intimacy is more important than the act itself. She can see how Florence is breathing a little fast, a little uneven, but still controlled and gently rests a hand between her shoulder blades for a moment, feeling the flutter of her heart. 

"...Are you sure you're alright? Are you still with me?"

"...Yes. Thank you. I'm... sorry. This shouldn't be... I shouldn't be..."

"It's alright. I understand. It's a lot. We're almost done, I promise."

"...Thank you."

Carol resisted the urge to press a kiss to the sharp line of her shoulder blade, knowing it would be far too much, that it would cross a line that could not be uncrossed when this was already... an incredible gesture of trust from a woman who had such little reason to trust anyone at all. Instead, she began to wash the shampoo out, scooping the cooling water and rinsing it, combing it out smooth with her fingers, shielding Florence's eyes from the suds. 

Eventually she sat back on her knees, rinsed her own hands carefully and dried them. 

"...Alright, we're done. I'll leave you to it."

She stood smoothly, and froze, caught by the intensity of Florence's eyes, somehow huge and brilliant, like diamonds in the low light, with a storm of emotions she couldn't identify in them, idly wondering when the other woman had lifted her previously bowed head, when she had opened her eyes. 

"...You didn't... have to do that. I... thank you."

"...It's quite alright, Florence. I'm happy to help." Carol stepped halfway through the door and glanced back, smiling warmly, lit by the light from the hall. "...You're welcome."

And Florence stared after her as the door closed behind her.

~

“I’m sure it can’t really be /that/ bad…”

Florence glanced back over her shoulder as she led the way up the path to Jonathan’s house, eyebrows raised, but she smiled all the same. 

“Your faith is something I admire. But no, I’m sure even by Jonathan’s low standards tonight won’t be that bad, and it is only one night after all…”

“Mmm… that’s what I thought when I got here…” 

Carol replied, a mischievous smile on her face as Florence knocked on the door, grateful that for once apparently the topiary griffin had decided to keep quiet. There were oh so many things she didn’t feel like explaining. The night was crisp and cold, and there was a crackle of potential in the air. Nights like this, so full of belief, always tended to thin the barriers a little between the magic and the mundane. 

“Oh come ON Jonathan, do open the door, it’s freezing out here…”

Florence stamped her feet a few times in an effort to keep out the cold, grateful that for once she’d bothered to pull on her hat and gloves as well as her coat to come as far as next door.

“About time…”

“And hello to you too, Florence. Good evening Mrs Aird, how are you?”

Jonathan bowed a little, and Carol laughed as she followed Florence across the threshold, looking around. 

“…Well, you certainly do have a charming home Mr Barnavelt… a little unusual, but delightfully… eccentric. But please do call me Carol, having done me the favour of inviting me to join you for the holidays.”

“Thank you. It used to belong to a magician, and the furniture came with the house. It seemed like an awful lot of work to change everything. May I take your bags?”

“Certainly Jonathan. It’s the food for tomorrow. Do make sure the turkey goes in the refrigerator, won’t you?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m not ENTIRELY incompetent.”

“That has to be seen to be believed. Is Lewis still up?”

“Probably. He went to bed about an hour ago but he was pretty excited so I’m sure if you wanted to stick your head in to say goodnight he’d be happy to see you. Why don’t I take care of the food and you show Carol up to the guest room. Oh and I guess you can use it too.”

Florence rolled her eyes, but she was smiling all the same, despite herself. 

“Once more I’ll take on some of your responsibilities, shall I? Carol, may I take your coat?”

Laughing once more, the other woman handed it over, shedding her hat and gloves and waiting while Florence hung them on the most orthodox of Jonathan’s coat racks before following her upstairs, glancing around at the pictures on the wall, the stained glass window (currently featuring a festive scene of a Christmas tree which Florence prayed would look the same in the morning), and the suit of armour. 

“What a wonderfully strange house…”

“Yes. It matches its inhabitant.”

“Have you two always been…?”

Despite the casual lightness of the tone, there’s a weight to the question all the same, and the feeling of it makes Florence eager to leave Carol under no illusions about the nature of the relationship she shares with Jonathan.

“Friends? Yes. And that’s all. He’s never really shown any particular interest in me, and I’m not sure he’d know how to flirt with a woman let alone court one if someone fed him lines through an earpiece. When I came here… ran here… from Paris, after the war…” she glances at the other woman, and can see the understanding in her eyes, because Carol knows the truth of that, or at least part of it, knows how much of an understatement it is but for now she’s permitting her this lie, “He… was kind. I was in no fit state to look for anything… well, other than friendship, and barely even that, but he was good to me. This isn’t a community that’s really used to outsiders moving in, but with him next door it distracted attention from me. He’s never been ashamed to be himself, and sometimes he’ll use that to others’ advantage. He’s gotten me out of more scrapes than I’d care to mention really, but… we help each other. There have been a few things that neither of us could have handled alone, and for those… we work best together. These days perhaps he’s a little more of a brother than a friend but… there could never be anything more than… it could never be anything more than platonic between us.”

“I see… well, I’m glad you found him? It can’t have been easy.”

“…It wasn’t. Here…”

Florence opened the door to the twin room she had spent half an hour that afternoon making habitable, and Carol walked in, gazing around admiringly and laughing. 

“…Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“The colour scheme, it seems very… “

“Oh! Yes… well… when Jonathan decided to refurbish the guest room he asked my advice on making something a little more… normal. I did my best.”

Carol set her suitcase down on the bed by the window and glanced back with a smile. 

“…Well I think you did a wonderful job. Did you want to go and say goodnight to Lewis?”

“Yes. I’ll do that, and see you downstairs for the poker game? Don’t accept anything Jonathan offers you that’s homemade. Everything else should be safe.”

As Florence headed for Lewis’ bedroom, she once more heard Carol’s musical laugh echoing behind her. Well. Tonight would be interesting.


	12. Chapter 12

"Calling /that/ a poker face is an insult to faces."

"Sore loser, frumpy?"

"Either raise or call, surely someone with a head that freakishly oversized can comprehend the two simple options available to you."

"Call."

Jonathan laid down a straight, grinning manically all the while, and Florence rolled her eyes. 

"Carol?"

"Full house, jacks over tens."

"Straight flush, I'm afraid."

Florence laid down her cards and gathered the pot with a smile. 

"At least playing with you is marginally more challenging than playing with Jonathan."

"I find a poker face can be so useful in a whole range of social situations, don't you?"

"Yeah yeah, alright. It's getting late and I know when I'm beaten. I think I'll call it a night. Would either of you ladies care for a nightcap?"

"Not for me, thank you Jonathan."

Carol tilted her head, smiling warmly at him. 

"...Perhaps just a small one, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Not at all. What would you like?"

"Whisky?"

"Coming right up."

"Thank you."

Jonathan disappeared to find some glasses, and Carol turned her luminous smile on Florence, an extra layer of mischief dancing in her eyes now as if they were sharing some private joke.

"...Shall we retire together? It's been a long time since I last had a sleepover?"

It's all Florence can do to resist the urge to reach out and touch Carol's hand again. It feels so natural between them, and she finds herself wanting to offer that reassurance that her politely declining really is nothing more than that. She has something to do, after all, something important, and she's already a little uncertain about whether or not it will work and why she feels the need to pursue it at all. She could have simply gone with her and then snuck out when Carol was asleep, but that feels like a different kind of dishonesty. Even as she speaks, though, she tries not to think too hard about why she's so desperate for Carol not to see this as a rejection.

"You go on ahead. There's something I need to check in Jonathan's library, but I'll be up shortly? Don't wait up for me."

"...Of course."

The smile doesn't even falter, but it's Carol who reaches out, hesitant about it this time, and Florence doesn't stop herself from meeting her hand halfway, holding on almost like a lifeline. 

"I... hope it's nothing I've..."

"No. Not at all. Nothing like that. It's just he really does have an impressive collection of old books, and there's something I've been meaning to look up, that's all. It's nothing more than that. I enjoy your company very much, and I consider it a privilege to have met you."

Carol squeezed her hand in return, the warmth returning to her smile where it had faded. 

"...And I you. I can imagine his collection must be quite impressive given some of the tokens we were using as chips tonight. Well, goodnight if I'm asleep by the time you come up?"

"Yes, he's always been... a bit of a magpie. Goodnight, Carol."

Florence rose from the table, clearing what remained of the pot into a box as another pretext for going into the study, passing Jonathan in the hall. 

"You're sure about this Florence?"

"...Am I ever, Jonathan? It's been a very long time, but I believe I remember how. Besides, it'll be safer to work in your study, at least you have wards in place there in case anythig should backfire."

"...Backfire? How much work are you planning to do exactly?"

"Not much, and it's not particularly dangerous, but you know as well as I do that these things can be... unpredictable."

"Well yours certainly can."

"It's not like that anymore Jonathan. I'm just... nervous."

"Alright. Well. If you need me, you know I'll come, but it's probably better for me to stay out unless it's something specific. I don't think my kind of magic necessarily meshes that well with what you want to do."

"No, delicacy never has really been your strongpoint, has it."

"Alright hagface, just be careful."

She smiled, resting her hand on his shoulder for a moment.

"...I will. I promise."

Florence walked into the study and braced her arms on Jonathan's desk, heaving a sigh of relief as the doors swung closed behind her. It wasn't her own space, no, but there was something comforting about the feeling of Jonathan's magic suffusing everything around her. His was a soft gold, and although it wasn't particularly strong compared to her own, it was still familiar. Although in the... incident with Isaac and Selina her powers had returned, they were still... strangely unfamiliar, and she hadn't felt the need to recreate her own workspace. Perhaps this was the start of something better.

As she'd asked, Jonathan had set the materials she had requested out on his desk, and Florence settled her glasses on her nose, flicking down the extended lenses and taking another settling breath before she set the jewellery box down in the centre of the table and lifted the lid. 

The earrings sparkled against the black velvet of the interior, and she set the lid aside and wondered how best to start. First, the candles. Four purple ones, one at each corner, lit deliberately because to make something protective she had to make sure the environment itself was clean. Fortunately Jonathan's warded cabinet was still in the corner of the room, and evil magic couldn't penetrate this room, but Florence wants all the help she can get, all the assurance, all the failsafes, all the external protection she can manage. A circle of rock salt on the cloth around the box is the final barrier before she lifts the earrings up one by one, examining them and trying to work out how best to turn them into something that would keep this extraordinary woman safe. Of course, she knows very well that there's only so much magic can do against the malevolence of human beings and the rule of law, but she wants to try /something/.

The gems can be charged, and the metal can be warded. It will be delicate, time-consuming work, and she's out of practice, but even holding them is bringing back a little certainty. She sits down, runs her fingers along the bottles of oil and pulls out three of them. She doesn't even need to look at them to identify the contents. Sage, peppermint, and lavender. She picks up a paintbrush, so slender it's almost one hair, and begins covering every inch of the metal with protective signs and sigils. 

By the time both of them are completely warded, her neck aches, her hands are cramping, and her temples are throbbing, but that was always going to be the more time-consuming part. She inspects them carefully and then closes her eyes, reaching deep into her centre for her power, sinking into it for a moment for comfort and strength before she draws out a few fibres of it, amethyst and glittering, sending it into each and every stone of the earrings, giving them a fire above and beyond what they had had when she first bought them from the counter. 

Finally satisfied, she opened her eyes and turned them over in her hands, inspecting them. Yes. They'll do. She set them back in the box, replaced the lid, broke the salt circle and blew out the candles. Yes. The job was done. 

She rolled her shoulders, wincing at the discomfort from staying in one place for so long, and picked up the earrings. She would leave them under the tree, and get what rest she could before the morning. Working that magic had taken more out of her than she'd expected. Perhaps it would come back with practice. Still it was definitely time for bed, and hopefully everything would seem clearer in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://di2ponv0v5otw.cloudfront.net/posts/2018/04/13/5ad112f72ab8c5871a59369a/m_5ad113d9a825a67e93fa3fc1.jpg - just a reminder of the earrings :)
> 
> Florence's doctoral dissertation was titled "A Free Inquiry into the Properties of Magic Amulets" according to the John Bellairs wiki, so that's what I'm basing this on.


	13. Chapter 13

Christmas morning is bright, sunshine glinting off the snow which had blanketed the world again overnight. Carol is woken by the sound of running feet along the corridor outside and smiles a little as she shifts. The bed really is amazingly comfortable, and she takes a moment to really enjoy it, savouring the softness and the warmth before she rolls over and pauses, almost forgetting how to breathe. 

Florence is lying in the other bed, ash-blonde hair... is it silver? She isn't even sure, but in the sunlight creeping past the curtains it looks white, radiant, spread out like a halo across the purple of the pillowcase. She looks almost ethereally beautiful, flung out of space in a whole different way to Therese. Therese had seemed like a perfect extra-terrestrial being, somehow above the rest of humanity, so detached almost as if she had come to study the strange ways of Earth. Florence seems more like an angel, someone intimately acquainted with the flaws of humanity and yet somehow full of compassion. 

The core of strength necessary to have seen such things and still have kindness is endlessly bewitching, there is a spark to her, a sense of something beneath the surface, concealed which Carol desperately wants to know better. There have been flashes, hints, but nothing more, and far from wanting to resist, Carol feels entirely willing to allow herself to be enthralled, to follow this fascination if Florence will let her. Even if not... she's coming to realise that Abby is right, that her world is small, that Harge closed it down and she let him, because it was easier, because she believed that perhaps if she followed the rules she might magically become the person she was supposed to be. That had already begun unravelling when she met Therese, but she had accelerated the process, and now... she has to build a whole new life for herself, a new world of people she hasn't met yet, and she wants Florence to be a part of that life, even if it is just as a friend. 

As she's watching, Florence's eyes open and she smiles, soft and sweet in a rare unguarded moment. 

"...Good morning. Did you sleep well? I hope I didn't disturb you when I came up, I know it was late. I got sucked into a very good book."

"Oh, no. I did mean to wait up for you but I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow... cumulative exhaustion, I suppose? It can happen, with a good book. Did you sleep well?"

"I did. Well. Shall we descend to the chaos before the boys cause too much unsupervised mayhem?"

"That's part of the magic of Christmas, isn't it?"

"So I hear..."

Florence got up from the bed, tall and beautiful and perfect, hair a curtain of silk around her shoulders, bright against the purple of her pyjamas, and Carol curled her fingers into the quilt as she looked on. 

"How's your hand today?"

"It's almost healed thank you, I'm fortunate that you were there... it's saved me having to do too much that might have opened it up again."

"I'm glad to have been here..."

Carol sat up in a rustle of sheets and stood, stretching, glancing up in surprise when Florence offered her robe. 

"...I hear it's traditional to do Christmas morning in pyjamas? Or at least, Jonathan seemed to think so."

"What a sweet idea..."

Carol pulled it on, watching Florence pin her hair up, skilled and deliberate. It seemed so complex, but at the same time elegant and simple. 

"Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this."

Florence glanced back over her shoulder as she opened the door, smiling. 

"Thank you for agreeing to be a part of this. I know we're... a slightly unusual gathering perhaps, but it works for us. It's kind of you not to judge that."

"I hardly feel I have any basis to judge at all."

"Shall we go?"

"Of course."

Carol followed Florence as she headed down the stairs, taking a moment to admire the beautifully festive picture window over the stairs. 

"This is beautiful... what a unique house..."

"That's certainly one word for it... ah, there they are. Good morning Jonathan, good morning Lewis, merry Christmas..."

"Merry Christmas Mrs Zimmermann! Hi Mrs Aird! Merry Christmas! I'm glad you can be here with us. It must be sad to be away from your daughter right now."

"...It is, a little. Being here with you is making that better though."

"Mrs Zimmermann, since it's Christmas, can we have cookies for breakfast?"

"...Well, I certainly don't see why not. I'll go see what I can rustle up shall I?"

"Would you like some help?"

"Oh, no... Thank you Carol, but it's fine. I planned for this eventuality, it won't take me long."

"I really must get that recipe..."

"It's the nuts that make things interesting."

Florence shot Jonathan a look. 

"...Yes. Thank you for that, Jonathan."

Carol followed her through into the kitchen. 

"Well, if we want to eat at a reasonable time, I guess we should probably get the turkey going. At least the vegetables are all prepared... when did that..."

Florence glanced over, frowning a little for a moment before her face relaxed again and she smiled.

"Oh, Jonathan last night. I told him if he wanted to contribute then he could make sure things were peeled and chopped."

"That will save us some time too... alright, how does this oven even work..."

"It's... temperamental. I need to bake the cookies anyway, so why don't I get it heating and you wrestle the bird into submission?"

"Excellent plan..." Carol flashed a conspiratorial smile at her, "We seem to make a good team..."

"We do. I'm glad Jonathan did prep the vegetables because I'm not sure how much longer Lewis will be patient about waiting for presents."

"He is a wonderful boy."

"He is indeed..."

Florence waited until Carol's back was turned and she was engrossed in preparing the bird before she opened the oven and lit the pilot light with a gesture, the purple flash from her finger cause for a smile because she now knows not to take her power for granted and it's starting to feel like hers again. 

She tries to remember how people usually bake cookies, it's been a long time since she's done it in a material way, but she has to at least make some convincing gestures. 

When Carol finally turns around having dressed and stuffed the turkey, she finds Florence pulling a tray of fresh cookies out of the oven.

"Oh those smell divine... that was quick too, how long do you bake them for?"

"Fifteen minutes. I had the dough ready. It always pays to keep some in case of emergencies, I find, and I had a feeling that today might be the sort of day one ate cookies for breakfast. What temperature does the bird need to go in at?"

"350..."

"Perfect. Alright, that's just a little bit hotter so it won't take long to get up there."

"Excellent... and then presents?"

Florence smiled.

"And then presents, apparently... I'm wondering whether I should get dressed first."

"No, I think presents on Christmas morning are a pyjamas kind of thing... but after that?"

"After that. Let's take these through while they're warm."

"I'll pour some glasses of milk."

"Thank you."

Florence carried the plate of cookies through, spotting the door to Jonathan's study was closed and locked, smiling to herself in the knowledge that Chair would be in there in an effort to keep him away from the guest. Jonathan and Lewis would make a fuss of him later, she was sure of it. 

"All RIGHT, here come the cookies... nice work as ever Florence, and thank you for the milk Carol..."

"Thank you Mrs Aird!"

"You're very welcome Lewis. Is it time for presents now?"

"Oh I think so, who wants to go first?"

"Can I?"

"I think you can Lewis, why don't you find what's under the tree with your name on it?"

"Okay! Oh wow..."

Lewis dived under the tree and pulled out several boxes, grinning fit to bust, and the three adults all laughed, sharing the moment of joy and happy to see him really enjoying himself. 

"Oh wow is this a chemistry set?!"

"It sure is buddy... be careful with it okay?"

Lewis threw himself at his uncle and hugged him tight around the waist. 

"...Thank you uncle Jonathan, thank you!"

He picked up the gift next to it and checked the tag, staring up elatedly. 

"Mrs Aird? This is from you?"

"It is. I wanted to get you a little something, so I asked Florence for her advice. I hope I picked the right one..."

"Thank you so much! What is it? Oh /wow/ it's a thesaurus! Thank you Mrs Aird! This is amazing..."

"Why don't you look up a word for us?" 

Florence suggested as she sipped her milk, sharing a quiet smile with Carol. 

Lewis flicked through the pages, a grin on his face. 

"Indomitable... steadfast, unyielding, invincible, invulnerable, unassailable, unbeatable, stubborn, obstinate, impregnable, willful... This is going to be so useful, thank you."

"I'm sure a boy with your vocabulary hardly needs it, but sometimes it can be very useful to have a cross-reference."

"It sure can. Thank you Mrs Aird, I really appreciate it. This is a proper one too!"

"I had the impression you were rather a boy who loved words, and I didn't want to insult your intelligence."

"Not at all... Mrs Zimmermann?"

Lewis looked up at her, kneeling on the floor with a smile so bright it rivalled the snow outside, and Florence hesitated only long enough to set her glass of milk down before she slid off the couch onto the floor with him, smiling. 

"I... thought long and hard about whether or not this would be a good present for you. I hope that you like it, and that if you don't, you'll forgive me."

Lewis squeezed her hand gently, smiling more softly now, and Florence can't deny the affection there is in his eyes and her heart aches behind her ribs as she hands over the small box. 

"I'm sure I'll love it Mrs Zimmermann. Thank you."

He unwrapped the shiny paper and stared at the box, slowly opening it and cradling the contents in both hands. 

Florence watched him, glancing up at Jonathan, at the look on his face, the not quite anguish of pride and sadness warring on his face. It's a look she knows is mirrored on her own face, and on Lewis' when he looks up, and she has to trust that Carol won't ask, will recognise that this is a moment for the three of them. 

The silence stretches on for an impossibly long moment, until it snaps, broken by the sound of Lewis shaking the ball. 

"...What do you think, mom and dad, are we gonna be okay?"

He grinned as the answer floated to the top. 

"Without a doubt."

Florence and Jonathan laughed, and Carol smiled to watch them, knowing there was something passing between the three of them that she couldn't be a part of. Being here felt like a privilege, but it did remind her of what was missing, of the scope of the life she had to build for herself when the dust settled from the divorce, something that she hoped might one day resemble the bond these three shared.


	14. Chapter 14

The meal was a success. They ended up having it mid-afternoon and it served to keep all of them comfortably full through into the evening. Florence was relieved at how normal the house seemed willing to be, and she did take a moment while the others were occupied to go and see Chair and make sure he knew he was still loved and she wasn't angry with him. She tried not to question the wisdom of pacifying a moody piece of furniture, but Chair was as much a part of this dysfuctional family as the house itself. 

The turkey had turned out perfect, despite all of Carol's worries about it being overcooked, and when things had finally begun to wind down the boys had moved to set up for some games to play, tidying away the wrapping paper and such while Florence and Carol cleared away the leftovers. 

Florence carried the last tray of vegetables through to the kitchen, setting it neatly on the side. Carol was standing at the sink, wearing an apron and her washing up gloves, staring out of the window. 

"How do you think it went?"

"Yes, I think it was... it was... " Carol reached for another plate and it slipped out of her hand, landing in the sink with a clatter, and Florence immediately crossed to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

"...Carol?"

"I'm... f-fine." She tried to pick the plate back up to scrub it and hissed as it slipped through her fingers to crash back into the bowl again, "I'm fine."

When Florence didn't move away, Carol turned her head to the other woman's shoulder, strangely grateful at this moment that Florence was tall enough she didn't have to bend. She'd never noticed that before, so used to being taller than most people around her, but Florence's arms come around her waist easily, like they belong there, and Carol turns as the tears bubble up out of nowhere and boil over. 

She feels Florence easing her away from the sink, feels her gloves be peeled off and hears the splash as they land back in the washing up bowl again, but now that they're free her hands have come to Florence's shoulders, knuckles almost white as her fingers curl into the fabric and she clings on for what feels like dear life, and Florence isn't going anywhere. 

The tears take awhile to abate, and through all that time Florence is steady and unhesitating, arms wrapped tight around her even as Carol can't stop shivering, and she hates it, hates that she can't help it, that she can't stop it, and she can't remember the last time she cried like this. Really it's been coming for a week or so now, since Therese, since losing Rindy early, since losing Rindy for months... and then even her escape was foiled, and she ended up here with these people who are so wonderfully kind, knowing she doesn't deserve it, and at the same time that she doesn't belong here no matter how much she wants to. 

"Mrs Zimmermann? Oh... I'm sorry..."

"No, it's alright Lewis... we'll be along in a minute. Was it something important?"

"No it's just there's a present under the tree for you? And for Mrs Aird too? I wanted to make sure that you knew!"

"Oh... is that so... well, thank you Lewis. We'll be right there."

"Do you need me to finish the dishes for you?"

"Thank you Lewis, later on that would be very kind. For now could you just give us a moment?"

"...Of course! Sorry!"

Carol heard him leave, shifting back from Florence to breathe, swiping at her eyes. 

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me..."

She looks away, unable to face the other woman, embarrassed, almost scared... but Florence takes her hands, demanding her attention without words, and when Carol turns she almost drowns in warm, steady eyes. 

"This time of year is hard when the family you have does not look like the one we are told we should want, and we are forever bombarded with images to compare it to, in case we might have forgotten all of the ways in which we don't measure up. Mine never did, and I know about the prices that can be paid for that. You've lost your daughter. Not forever, no, but you thought you would have more time with her than you did, and that was taken from you, and someone else has decided that you don't deserve her, that they know better about what is right for your daughter, that you are somehow flawed or wrong. There is nothing wrong with you, with who you are, but the people who make decisions can't see that, or disagree. That does not make them right, but it does hurt. There is nothing like that pain. It doesn't serve you to deny it."

"...Thank you."

"Would you prefer to go ho-... to go back to the house? I can say that you have a headache?"

Carol hesitated, then shook her head. 

"...No. No, I think I'll be fine. Thank you though. I... Thank you. Perhaps we should go investigate whatever it is Lewis has found under the tree?"

Florence smiled and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze.

"...Alright. Let's go."

"Where's my compact?"

"You look fine. Don't worry."

"Alright... they probably won't notice anyway..." Carol laughed, nervously but hoping all the same that it might be a return to the ease they had before. 

Florence laughed, one last brush of her fingers along Carol's arm as one more gesture of support as she turned to head back to the living room. 

"...Now, Lewis, what did you find there?"

"Well there's something under here for you, and something under here for Mrs Aird too!"

"Alright well.. why don't you play the little elf and distribute the presents?"

"Okay!"

Florence smiled as Lewis handed Carol her little box first, and then accepted her own gift. 

"...Thank you Lewis... and thank you Carol, you didn't have to."

"Really, after everything you've done for me, it's the least I could do... Oh, Florence, this really is too much."

Florence smiles at her, and when she notices Lewis staring at her gives the slightest shake of her head. She has a feeling she knows what he wants to ask, and the way Jonathan is looking at her says he's noticed too, but now is really not the time. She unwraps the present with the tag on it from Carol.

The necklace surprises her. It suits her perfectly, and although it's a mundane object with no special properties she can feel how it resonates with her power. It feels... comfortable, and the thought that it represents, the attention to her, to what she might like is overwhelming.

"Oh... Carol... really, this is... too much... it's beautiful, thank you. Jonathan, will you help me put it on?"

"Sure thing Florence, turn around?"

She turns and Jonathan loops the pendant around her neck, taking advantage of his proximity to her ear to ask the question she's been hoping to avoid. 

"Florence are you sure about this? I can feel the power radiating off that box from here, what /is/ that? Are you sure about this?"

"They're just earrings Jonathan."

"Those aren't /just/ earrings."

"Can we talk about this later, because your whispering is /not/ as quiet as you think it is."

"Fine... Would you look at that, isn't that beautiful?"

Florence smiled, touching the pendant. 

"...It's perfect. Thank you."

"Oh these earrings are gorgeous... where did you find them? They're absolutely stunning..."

"I suppose I was lucky to find them... perhaps they'll bring you luck too."

Carol smiled, unclasping her earrings and replacing them with the new pair, checking her reflection in the mirror. 

"These are truly wonderful... thank you."

"Alright, now the rest of the presents are out of the way shall we play a game?"  
Carol smiled, but there was a little strain around the edges that Florence couldn't fail to notice. "I... have to say I'm rather tired, but... did you have something in mind?"

"Lie detector? That one's always fun at a party."

"Oh, I'm not sure I know that one, how do you play?"

"No." Carol blinked a little at the firmness of Florence's tone. "We're not playing lie detector, Jonathan. There has to be something else. Perhaps telephone? Sardines?"

"Ooh, Sardines... you sure about that Florence?"

There's a hint of colour on her cheeks, and she hesitates, realising that she's backed herself into quite the corner risking a game like this in Jonathan's house, but the suggestion is already out there and she doesn't quite know how to pull it back. 

"...Yes, why not?"

"Well sure thing, that seems like a great game after a meal that size. Carol, Lewis, what do you two think?"

"...I... suppose maybe a round or two couldn't do any harm... are there any rules about places to hide, or...?"

Carol seems a little bemused, but she's still willing to play along, and Florence is already wishing she hadn't opened her mouth. She's not scared. She's faced down far more intimidating and dangerous situations than this, so it is /not/ fear on her face when Jonathan turns an evil grin on her, and the silence stretches on for a long moment, until, finally...

"I guess anywhere but my study. For safety reasons that better be out of bounds for the moment, don't know what could fall over in there. Florence is always on at me to get it cleaned up but I just can't seem to find the time."

"That's the locked door in the hall?"

"That's the locked door in the hall. Everywhere else is fair game."

"Alright, who's hiding first?"

"Lewis, why don't you hide first!"

"Trying to save this, frumpy?"

"I don't know that I'll waste my energy... Alright Lewis, off you go. We'll give you to the count of twenty, then we'll all come looking."

"Alright Mrs Zimmermann!"

"3, 2, 1, go!"

Lewis sprinted off, and the three adults started counting, while Florence wished so very much that she had said nothing at all.

~

"Shall we play again?"

There was a wicked grin on Jonathan's face, and Florence wished she was better at hiding her discomfort. At least Lewis had found somewhere that they could all fit, and which, by the standards of Jonathan's house was positively normal. Still. Being pressed up against Carol like that in the coat cupboard had been... perhaps a little more tense than she would have liked.

"I'm feeling rather tired actually, so perhaps it might be best if we wrap the evening up for now? The leftovers are all in the icebox for you, and there's plenty of cookies for emergencies, so I'm sure you boys can manage just fine..."

Carol glanced at her, a hint of colour high on her cheekbones too as she nodded. 

"I rather agree with Florence, I'm certainly feeling the excitement, but I'm ready to turn in... Thank you very much again for having me?"

"Oh no, we should be thanking you, we really couldn't have done this without you, that turkey was delicious. You two ladies have a nice quiet evening now okay?"

"Thank you... Merry Christmas again Lewis."

"Merry Christmas Mrs Zimmermann, Mrs Aird, thank you again for the presents."

"You're very welcome."


	15. Chapter 15

"So I had a call from the garage this morning... the part came in, they've fixed my car. They say I can pick it up tomorrow."

Carol glanced up from her coffee, looking over at Florence across the breakfast table, tapping the ash from her cigarette off on the edge of the dish.

Florence hesitated, but smiled. It was strange to think that Carol would indeed be leaving. This time of year around the holidays was always slightly unreal, and although this was something temporary which had sprung from an accident, it had settled into something surprisingly comfortable. It was almost sad to think of it ending. 

"Well that's... good news. So will you... I mean, I assume you will?"

Carol tilted her head, and the way the sunlight danced in her hair and cast shadows on her wonderful cheekbones was more captivating than Florence really wanted to admit. There was just something utterly fascinating about her, and seemingly exposure was doing nothing to diminish it. 

"I... was thinking perhaps if it might not be too much of an inconvenience... I could stay for New Year's? It seems... fitting to start new again for the new year, so it's a good day to get back on the road. Perhaps I'll head back to New York, perhaps I might... drive on a little further first. Really I have no reason to go back until March or so, unless my solicitor tells me differently, but... things have perhaps... shifted a little bit."

"That would be... nice. You'd be welcome, certainly."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I... didn't think, do you perhaps have your own traditions? With Jonathan maybe?"

"No I... don't usually do anything much. Do you?"

"Harge and I never spend New Year's Eve together. Always a business function. Always clients to entertain. So... no, I suppose not really."

"This is an opportunity then. What would you /like/ to do?"

And Carol smiled as she took the final drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ash tray with a considering look. 

"...Tell me Florence, do you drink champagne?"

~

"I'm sure one bottle will be enough... do you think it's too early to open it?"

Florence is trying very much not to think of Carol's voice as a purr, but it's a struggle. It's low and warm and smooth, almost like a jazz singer, sometimes it's as if she can feel it on her skin like velvet. She's never heard someone whose voice commands so much attention, even when it's quiet. Carol's eyes are bright, playful as she smiles, and Florence smiles back, because there are so many ways Carol reminds her of the woman she used to be, and it's nice to see the shadows in her retreating, albeit temporarily.

"Isn't it more traditional to pop the cork at midnight?"

"I suppose so, but this isn't really a year to be hidebound by tradition, don't you think?"

"That's true. Well... we do have a second in reserve, so why not open it? It might make things interesting..."

Carol's answering smile mirrored Florence's own, and the witch was rather surprised to find herself feeling so playful. She didn't even have the excuse of the champagne yet, but she strangely doesn't mind. It feels safe to be herself with this woman, here in her own home especially, knowing that this is only a temporary illusion. After tomorrow Carol will go home, back to her normal life far away from a backwater town in the middle of nowhere Michigan. 

"As you say, Mrs Zimmermann... how's the food looking?"

"Well, the melon's under control and the pot pie is in the oven... and the ice cream is in the freezer. I think it's reasonably good for a last minute celebratory feast, don't you?"

"I think we've done ourselves proud..."

Carol tossed her hair as she crossed the kitchen to lean on the counter next to Florence, lips pursed in a playful pout as she handed the other woman a glass of champagne ad both of them laughed. Florence took it and smiled.

"To the new year?"

"To the new year... and perhaps... to new friendships?"

"To the new year and to new friendships."

The glasses clinked and both women shared a smiling glance as they sipped.

"Alright... shall we eat?"

"Let's."

~

By the time midnight rolled around they had indeed finished the first bottle of champagne, and were back on the sofa where they had talked that first night, with the radio on to count them down to the new year. 

"I have to say, if you'd asked me at the beginning of the year if this was how I thought it would end, I would never in a million years have foreseen it..." Carol tilted her head, gazing into the middle distance before she turned her radiant smile on Florence once more, "...I can't say I'm sorry though?"

"Neither am I..."

Florence knows she's blushing again, but she can't quite bring herself to care too much. It's the champagne, of course. She settles a little closer to Carol on the sofa, the other woman is warm and vital and real and the scent of her perfume is positively intoxicating.

Carol tucks her arm around Florence's waist, and Florence finds that her shoulder is surprisingly comfortable as her head comes to rest there, Carol's perfume even more intense this close up. 

"10... 9... 8... 7..."

She takes another sip of champagne and sets the glass down, taking Carol's hand, staring at the way their fingers interweave.

"6... 5... 4..."

Their eyes meet again, and Florence is absolutely hypnotised. Carol's eyes are beautiful, a pale blue-grey, and Florence wants to drown in them. Moving closer feels so natural, and she can feel her heart pounding against her ribs as Carol's breath skitters over her skin. 

"3... 2... 1..."

The brush of their lips feels inevitable, like the result of some gravitational pull, a weight on the rubber sheet of the universe, and although the first brush is hesitant, feather-light like the touch of a butterfly, the second is less so as both of them come back. The kiss is brief, a matter of seconds, and perfectly chaste and yet as they part, both women are breathing hard, pupils blown wide. 

The moment stretches on as they stare at each other until the cheers on the radio cut through the buzzing in Florence's ears and she flushes immediately, reaching for her glass and draining it of champagne, licking her lips ostensibly to catch the drops and not at all for the lingering taste of Carol there. 

"...Well, I think now we've greeted the new year it's time to retire, don't you? Oh, and do remind me in the morning before you go, I have a present for your daughter. If... that's okay, of course."

Carol is still staring at her as Florence stands and smooths down her dress, and it takes a moment before she's started back into motion. 

"Oh... yes, of course, thank you, that's beyond generous of you. Thank you. For everything."

"Of course. Goodnight Carol, sleep well."


	16. Chapter 16

The silence seems to echo despite the background chatter of the radio as Florence closes the door behind her with a soft snap. Carol stares at the space where she was and presses her fingertips to her lips. They feel hot, and she knows that must be an illusion, knows she must be imagining it, but still it feels like the imprint of Florence's lips is burned into her own. It's not that she'd never thought of kissing Florence, no, the idea had occurred to her more than once, but although they had perhaps been dancing around each other, although there had been moments of spark between them... it had been easier not to get her hopes up. Those were better kept for fantasies back in her real life somewhere outside of this quaint little town, times when she could remember the ethereally beautiful, kind woman who had saved her from... well, everything, and dream about what might have been. 

The kiss was real, it had happened, she knew that, could feel it in her bones and the way her heart was still pounding, and she knows too that it was a kiss shared, not led or followed. They had kissed each other and it had felt as natural as breathing, but at the same time Carol is terrified that this might mean the end of... whatever this is that's been building slowly between them. She's never met anyone like Florence before and every instinct she has is crying out to hold on to her, in whatever form that may be. Her whole world is falling apart, losing Harge apparently means losing Rindy, and most of her social circle apart from Abby, because, bless her, there is always Abby. Even after their brief acquaintance so far, Florence is a friend, and Carol knows how desperately she needs more of those at the moment. 

Eventually she set her now empty glass down on the table and got up, turning the radio off and heading for bed, pausing once in the doorway to glance back into the now empty room, wondering whether this would be another one of those crystalline precious memories before everything shattered into pieces that would never again be whole. 

~

When Carol went downstairs the next morning, she hesitated a little before setting foot on the first tread, not really sure what she would find when she reached the kitchen.

The sight that greeted her was the same as almost every other morning, and the relief that flooded her was heady when she saw Florence in her robe at the stove, with a pot of coffee already waiting on the side. 

"...Good morning?"

Florence looks up and smiles, and a knot in Carol's gut loosens a little bit. 

"Good morning. Happy new year. How did you sleep?"

"Oh... fine, thank you. And you?"

"Yes, well thank you. It's nice to start the new year off with a good night's sleep. Speaking of starting things off I thought perhaps pancakes? It's... more than I usually do, but it's been the holidays and it feels like a auspicious kind of day. I made some fresh applesauce too to go with them. Would you like some eggs or anything?"

"I... wouldn't want to put you to the trouble?"

"It's no trouble. I was thinking of making some scrambled eggs anyway. Are you... still planning to pick your car up today?"

Carol poured herself a cup of coffee and stared at it for a long moment before she adds a splash of milk, and a spoon of sugar. And then another spoon of sugar, watching the golden brown crystals dissolve and sink below the surface. 

"...I think so, yes. Not that I don't appreciate your hospitality, but it's time I got out of your hair. Perhaps if you're making some eggs anyway it might be a good idea, a big breakfast to prepare for the road."

Florence's smile is warm and her eyes are dancing and Carol's chest aches a little bit as she wonders whether she'll ever see that sight again. 

"An excellent idea... Oh, yes, I have a present for your daughter... would you be willing to keep an eye on the pancakes while I fetch it?"

"I... of course, thank you. You really don't have to... but it's very generous of you."

Florence hesitated in the doorway, and when she spoke again there was a painful honesty to her voice. 

"...I want to. It... was my daughter's. I understand if you don't... want it, or if it feels... awkward or wrong. It was supposed to be a talisman, one of those good luck charms you give children to keep them safe. I hope it brings your daughter better luck. But I thought it might... perhaps be a sort of protection that might set your mind at ease a little if you have to be apart from her for so long and with your future uncertain."

Carol stared at her. She hadn't known what to expect when Florence said she had a gift for Rindy, had wondered whether it might perhaps have been forgotten entirely because offers made in champagne often evaporated in the light of day. This is... beyond anything she might have thought, and the words catch in her throat as she manages to choke out "Thank you." Really, what else is there to say? 

Florence disappeared towards the stairs and Carol shook herself and went to stand by the stove, setting the first pancake going, flipping it when it was golden brown and fluffy and beginning to stack up the plates. 

It was a matter of minutes before Florence returned, and Carol looked up from the hob. 

"...Here. I hope... well. I hope she likes it."

Florence held out a necklace, a small golden heart on a fine chain with a little diamond offset near the bottom. Carol stared at it for a moment, then reached out to take it, saying nothing when Florence hesitated for a split second before letting it fall into her palm. She closed her hand around it, telling herself she must be imagining the warmth of it again. Florence hadn't been holding it that long. She isn't unaware of the weight of this gift though, and she makes up her mind then and there that one day she will tell Rindy where it came from. 

"...I'm sure she'll love it. Thank you. It's really... it's beyond generous of you."

"I'd like it to go somewhere it might make a difference."

"...It will. I know it."

The silence stretches on for an impossible moment until finally it snaps and Florence smiles, back to her usual brisk self. 

"Well. Those pancakes look lovely. Shall we eat?"

~

Carol was surprised by how touched she was when Lewis threw his arms around her waist and gave her a hug. 

"Safe travels Mrs Aird. It was really nice to meet you. I hope you come back and visit again sometime!"

She hugged him back, swallowing down tears that threatened at how willing these three people had been to let her into their lives and make her, for a little while, part of the family. 

"...Thank you Lewis. It was a pleasure to meet you too. You really are a wonderful young man, and I would love to come back and visit again one day."

She straightened up and smiled at Jonathan, who took her arm briefly, and then sighed heavily and moved into a proper hug. 

"I'm sorry, I never really was one to stand on ceremony. It was great to meet you, Carol. You're welcome to come back any time. Drive safe."

"Thank you Jonathan. Meeting you has been an experience I will never forget. I will always remember your taste in... well, many things."

"Thanks Carol. I'll send you a kimono of your own next Christmas."

"Oh, I don't know if I could really pull it off, but I'm flattered by the offer."

There's only one goodbye left to say, and Carol hesitates before she turns to Florence, because it's somehow the hardest goodbye of all, and she's not really sure what to say, especially in front of an audience. Though really, if she's honest with herself, she didn't know what to say when they were alone either. 

"...Well, Florence, I... it really has been a pleasure and a privilege to meet you, and to get to know you over the last week or so. I never have been all that good with words, and I certainly can't do justice to the kindness and generosity you've shown me. I will certainly never forget you, and if there's ever anything I can do... please do not hesitate to ask."

She reached into her pocket, feeling the spare key against her fingers as she pulled out a piece of paper she'd prepared that morning. 

"...This is my address, in New Jersey, and my telephone number. If you ever find yourself that way... please do look me up."

Florence took it and tucked it safely into her own pocket, a hint of colour once more high on her cheekbones, and oh but Carol still thinks she looks impossibly beautiful like that. The other woman reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. 

"...Thank you. I will."

"Do you... may I return your key?"

Florence paused for a moment, then shook her head and smiled, still holding Carol's hand. 

"...No. Keep it. As I told you a long time ago, you're always welcome. Safe travels, and I hope everything resolves itself with your daughter."

"...Thank you. So do I."

Carol hesitated, wondering whether to embrace her one more time, but... it didn't feel right, not like this, not with the boys looking on, however understanding they were. 

"Alright..." She looked around at the three people, three kind strangers who had assembled to see her off, "Well, thank you again. Take care all of you. Goodbye."

And she climbed into her car and pulled away with one last parting wave.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience. Up to this point the story had been very intense, which is part of why I think it came so quickly. It was nice to reach this natural point to take a little breather from it and give myself some space, and also I had to put a lot of thought into how to approach this next section. There's been a lot of writing and editing and moving bits around to try to get this right, on top of which I was actually presenting at an international conference this week, so although I wrote three thousand words on the way here that wasn't, as it were, the end of the story! You're not even seeing all of that here, because a large chunk has been moved into the next chapter which I hope to have ready soon.

The road stretched out ahead of her, and the sky was steel grey. As she drove, Carol mused on the fact that when she left home just over a week ago she had never intended to return so soon, but really it doesn’t feel right going anywhere else. Nothing about this trip has been as intended, although when she set out she’d had no intentions at all apart from getting as far away from her real life as possible. Things feel like they’ve changed, shifted inside her into a configuration that feels a little more bearable. She doesn’t really understand how or why, but it’s right all the same. Absently she reached up and played with an earring, tracing the floral crystals with her fingertips. They feel warm, but then, of course, they would, being worn next to her skin for so long. Much like with Florence herself there’s something about this gift which makes her feel safer, protected. It’s ridiculous to feel that way because of a pair of earrings, after all, she’s hardly superstitious… but the weight of the necklace in her pocket is real and she can’t forget the look in Florence’s eyes as she handed it over. 

It’s a long way back to New York, further still to home in Jersey, and she’s not sure whether or not she can make it all the way. Perhaps it would be foolish to try, really, particularly given the weather and the conditions on the road, and her recently repaired vehicle. She doesn’t feel a need to stretch it out, though. She needs to get home, to a place that’s familiar where she can remember who she is, or at least, who she was, so she can begin unravelling the puzzle of who she has become. 

She can still feel the New Year’s kiss on her lips, can’t quite stop herself from touching them occasionally. Alright, it had been a moment engineered for magic like that, and she can’t pretend it wasn‘t something she wanted, something she’d dreamed about sometimes… but it had seemed unfair to ask, to think that way about a woman who had been so kind to her and who she had no reason to suppose might be that way inclined. There had been hints, but Carol knows and understands how important it is not to be carried away by hints. Hope only ends up aching more if you allow it to persist, after all, and yet… and yet.

She drove on towards the horizon, turning everything she knew about Florence over in her mind, because she is somehow endlessly fascinating, utterly captivating, and Carol already misses her. She misses her vulnerability, her strength, her kindness, her smile, perfectly prim silver-blonde hair and warm blue eyes, the shadows of sadness that ripple under creamy skin and yet somehow never win out. She misses the feeling of Florence’s arms around her, the scent of her hair and an unfamiliar perfume she’ll never be able to replicate, the feeling of Florence’s skin under her hands. The trust she’d been shown by a stranger still renders her utterly spellbound, and she can’t help but feel, just a little bit, like she’s leaving home as she drives away. 

After several hours she pulled off the highway and checked into a motel, lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. She’s hungry, and starting to realise that it’s been a long time since the pancakes and eggs that morning. There was a diner nearby, and that seemed like an obvious place to eat before she calls it a night, but first she has a phone call to make. 

She knows the number off by heart. She should, after all this time, and she doesn’t even need to look as she dials. It’s only a few rings before it’s picked up.

“Abby Gerhard.”

“Hello Abby... It’s Carol, I’m on my way home.”

“Really? So soon? You never did like driving alone, I suppose.”

“No. I had some car trouble, ended up stuck in a small town in Michigan over the holidays to get it fixed. After that I suppose I lost my momentum a little bit.”

“I guess you don’t want to risk the car packing up again either. How far are you?”

“I’ll be home in a couple of days. Could I… perhaps come visit you? The house will still be empty, and… well.”

There’s a brief pause, before:

“Of course, Carol. You know you’re always welcome. I feel I should warn you that Harge has been sniffing around here. He was looking for you, and assumed since you weren’t at home or with him you had to be with me. Don’t worry, I sent him packing with a flea in his ear.”

Carol closed her eyes and sighed, because she feels horribly guilty that she brought trouble to Abby’s door. Really, all she ever seems to do is bring trouble to people.

“…I’m so sorry Abby.”

“Don’t be. You’re not his keeper, and he’s not yours either, whatever he seems to think. Is it just because the house is empty, or…?”

She leaves the question hanging, and Abby has always been an expert in getting information out of her, in leaving gaps that Carol has to fill. 

“I… met someone. I’m not… really sure… about anything much really, and I’d value your… insight?”

“Not the shop girl? My, Carol, I never had you down as one who moves on that quickly.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like what? Like the shop girl, or like that at all?”

“She has a name. But it’s not like Therese. I’m… not really sure what it’s like.”

“Alright, well I look forward to hearing all about what it is or isn’t like when you get here. When should I expect you?”

“The day after tomorrow? I’ll let you know if I’m not going to make it?”

“You do that.”

“…Thanks Abby.”

“Drive safe.”

~

After they all saw Carol off, Florence walked home with Jonathan and Lewis. The snow had started coming down again, and the sky was steel grey, while she tried not to think too much about how it mirrored her mood. She feels flat, despite the fact that really this is back to normal. It hasn’t been that long really, just over a week, and yet the prospect of her home doesn’t seem nearly so welcoming knowing that it’s empty. It’s entirely ridiculous how much of an impact this woman has had on her life, this stranger who appeared almost out of the snow, who stayed for a week and has now gone back to her normal life, full of other people and responsibilities, with plenty of troubles of her own to handle. She can at least draw some comfort from the fact that she has done her best for Carol, and for her daughter. 

She naturally pauses along with the boys when they reach the gates of Jonathan’s house, and he gestures with his head up the path. 

“You wanna come in for some milk and cookies?”

Florence sighs, but she’s smiling all the same because she knows what he’s doing, and the kindness of it aches a little bit in her soul. 

“Jonathan Barnavelt, I’m not a cookie machine.”

“I know, that’s why we’ve got some of your cookie dough in the freezer. C’mon.”

“…Really? Frozen cookies?”

“If you want fresh, you can always make ‘em yourself!”

Lewis laughed as he followed his uncle up the path, and Florence shook her head, walking after them and still smiling despite herself. It might not be the family she had once upon a time, but it is her family, and she’s grateful to not have to go back to the empty house just yet.

“Coffee?”

“Tea please, if you can make something that actually resembles it. Oh, Lewis, while I remember, might I borrow your goggles for a few days?”

“Sure thing Mrs Zimmermann, what do you need them for?”

Florence hesitated a moment, wondering what his reaction would be, but she smiled as cookies began appearing on the plate in front of her, surrounded by purple. 

“I… was hoping perhaps I could give you a little protection.”

“Wow! How are you going to do that?”

“Well, you know I have a doctorate from Gottingen?”

“Yeah, uncle Jonathan told me. What did you study?”

“I studied the properties of magic amulets. I focused on learning about the old ones and why they worked, and also how to make them, and make them powerful. I… what with everything that happened… when I lost my magic, I also lost the ability to make them. Even after it came back I didn’t really feel much like trying, but I did a little bit of a test project over the holidays and it seems to all be coming back to me now. I’d like… if you wouldn’t mind… to give you a little bit of what I can to help keep you safe too?”

Lewis beamed at her and nodded, hugging her quickly around the waist before he sprinted to the stairs. 

“Thanks Mrs Zimmermann! That’s really awesome of you!”

“So you did work the magic on those earrings. I thought I could sense your power. I could definitely sense something. Honestly they were so strong they were almost blinding. Was that deliberate?”

Jonathan set her tea down on the table and Florence sighed, picking it up and savouring the way the warmth soaked into her hands before she answered. 

“…Yes and no. Did I make them as strong as I could have? No. Did they perhaps end up stronger than I anticipated regardless? Yes. It’s… hard to judge that kind of power when you haven’t exercised it in a while, and I always did have a natural affinity for that kind of work.”

“You really trust her with them?”

“I do. Mundane people can’t sense magic, you know that. The most she’ll have, I hope, is a sense of safety and wellbeing.”

“Do you think you’ll see her again?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

Jonathan threw himself into the chair next to her, pausing a moment before he asked his next question. 

“…Why did you stop making them? Was it just the magic thing, or…”

“Because they didn’t work. Because I made charms for my family and they didn’t work. Because my power couldn’t keep the person who was the most important in the world to me safe.” 

The words burst out, harsher than she had intended but she didn’t apologise, didn’t soften them because she knew that now, with Lewis here, Jonathan could understand the thought of that pain in a way it had only ever been abstract before. 

“I didn’t offer before now because… I couldn’t… feel responsible for something like that again. Not for Lewis. At the end of the day Carol is a grown woman, she can take care of herself without help from me but if it fails, it can’t hurt. I… I gave her something else too. The necklace I made for Aurelie. I hope it’ll work better for her daughter. It should, logically. The darkness we faced was… unlike anything else. I hope never to see its like again. But I think I can protect Lewis, and I want to do what I can. Perhaps if I can find the balance in that power again, I can do something to earn my keep. I’d like that. I find… there’s a quiet joy in rediscovering my strength and using it for good. Despite all their best efforts, they could not take everything from me, and I will work forever, in whatever ways I can, to make sure that they and people like them, never take anything from another person as long as I draw breath.”

There’s a long silence then, and eventually Jonathan nods, squeezing her hand gently where it’s balled into a fist on the table-top, fingernails digging into her palm. 

“…I think that deserves a little more than just tea.”

“It’s too early to drink.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“Jonathan, in this house, when it reaches five o’clock, we’ll know.”

“That wasn’t a no…”

“…” Florence sighs, but smiles a little, “…Alright. A little bit of whisky maybe. But in the tea. I don’t want Lewis to think it’s acceptable. With you as his role model, who knows what he’ll learn.”

“Why do you think I keep you around, frumpy?”


	18. Chapter 18

It was dark when she finally pulled up outside Abby’s house, and the brunette was waiting for her in her plaid dressing gown and slippers, arms folded against the cold, but with the hint of a smile on her lips. 

“Come on slowpoke, it’s freezing out here. I want to get back inside.” She watched Carol heave her case out of the car and smiled, “How was your trip?”

“It was… interesting. Not really what I was expecting I think. I don’t know. I don’t really know what I was expecting at all and I suppose that’s part of the problem.”

“Probably. Come on, get inside. I’ll make us some cocoa and you can tell me all about it.”

Her voice is warm and already it feels like being home, and Carol can’t resist teasing a little.

“Going to put a little something in that cocoa?”

Abby glanced back over her shoulder in mock offence. 

“What do you take me for? Of course I am.”

Carol smiled as she carried her case across the threshold and turned to meet Abby’s embrace, squeezing tight. 

“Mmmn… I missed you.”

“I missed you too. So, what happened in Michigan?”

Abby’s eyes are bright and it’s obvious she’s interested, but Carol hesitates, her smile softening a little bit as she squeezes Abby’s arm, moving away.

“…Cocoa first? It’s not a short story, and it probably deserves to be uninterrupted.”

“Oh well now you’ve got me intrigued…”

Carol laughed and headed through into Abby’s wonderfully familiar living room, making herself comfortable on the couch, knees drawn up under her.

“I’d say there’s not much to tell but I don’t think that’s true…”

“Where did you get those earrings by the way? They’re gorgeous.”

“Oh these?” Carol reached for her ear, hand faltering a little as she brushed one, “…They were a present.”

“From… yourself? From Harge?”

“From… a friend. All part of the story, I promise.”

“Alright. Cocoa coming up. What would you like in it?”

“Whisky please.”

The smile lingers a little on her lips as she remembers nights in Florence’s purple living room, a world away from the warm shades of Abby’s, and the burn of whisky with cigarette smoke hanging in the air. 

“Coming right up…”

True to her word it’s only a couple of minutes before Abby carries two mugs through, and she always makes the best hot chocolate. Carol wraps her hands around it, feeling the warmth defrost her fingers, and she can smell the whisky in it because Abby always has the good stuff. She’s a little surprised at the ache in her chest at the lack of cookies though. Perhaps she’d been spoiled, but at least she has the recipe now. 

Abby regards her for a few minutes in silence, because she knows Carol often can’t resist the urge to fill it back up again, uncomfortable with silence except with those she trusts the most. She takes a silent sip, still waiting, until she asks:

“So… Michigan?”

“I ended up in this small town. My car broke down in that storm back just before Christmas Eve, like I said when I called.”

“I remember.”

“Fortunately it was right next to the bus station, and this nice man and his nephew had just gotten off the bus and asked if I needed any help. I asked them if they knew if there was somewhere to stay, or a mechanic in town. I knew I needed to be stopping for the night anyway really, and we were right opposite the hotel but unfortunately they didn’t have any rooms left. Jonathan said perhaps I might be able to stay with the friend of his that was coming to meet them, a Mrs Zimmermann. Obviously I hated the idea of putting somebody out like that, but… I didn’t really have many options. We hadn’t really been talking long when she arrived, and… Abby, she was beautiful.” Carol trailed off for a moment, losing herself in the memory of that first time she’d seen Florence, ethereal and real all at once. “Stunningly, captivatingly, jaw-droppingly beautiful. One of those people who seems somehow simultaneously real and unreal, you know? Well we explained the predicament and obviously I said I couldn’t ask her to put me up, but she insisted. We went back to her house and she had dinner ready, for Jonathan and Lewis I presume… they had such a fascinating relationship, like watching siblings bicker? You can’t help but smile at them.”

Carol took a sip of hot chocolate, enjoying the burn of it down her throat from the liquor, and stealing a glance at Abby’s carefully impassive face, though she could tell the brunette was trying not to smile.

“So we all ate together and Jonathan and Lewis went home, and Florence offered me a nightcap. I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere I felt so safe, you know? I mean, here, obviously… but gone somewhere new and felt so safe? There was just something… reassuring about her, about her home. I thought I’d only be there for one night, so it seemed… safe to talk a little bit. She asked why I was travelling at that time of year and honestly trying to come up with a lie seemed like more trouble than it was worth, so I didn’t. After all, what could it hurt me to be honest with someone I would never see again? And she was… kind. Very kind. And then…” Carol hesitated, unsure whether this was too much like betraying a confidence, “I… well, I saw something. There had been things said, cryptic things that I… I’d said some things which hurt, without meaning to. Florence had a little girl once, but she… well. She lost her. And her husband.”

Carol slipped her hand into her pocket and wrapped it around the delicate little necklace which was still there, tucked away safely for the next time she got to see her daughter. She swallows, because this isn’t her story, and yet she has to share it, has to try to make Abby understand everything that’s so captivating about this woman she left behind. 

“She was… is from Europe. They were… she was… well, they were there, before the war. And during, I suppose. We were talking and her sleeve rode up. She had a tattoo, just like the people in the newsreels.”

Abby hisses through her teeth and reaches for Carol’s hand, brushing her fingers reassuringly across the back of it and Carol gives her a grateful smile even though she knows she’s not the one deserving of comfort.

“We didn’t really talk much after that. I had a bath and went to bed. She made me a hot water bottle, which was very kind. It was bitterly cold. The next day we went down with Jonathan to look at the car but there was nothing to be done, so we called the mechanic and he said I needed a part but with the storms and the holidays it would be a while. I offered to go ask at the hotel again, but Florence just said I could stay if I wanted to, and… honestly, I wanted to. I called you that afternoon, you know that, and you… told me about Therese, and Harge, and Rindy, and I… when I got off the phone I was so angry, so hurt and angry and scared, and I cried. She just held me until I stopped, without hesitating, without even really asking… and when I told her I told her everything. I even told her why Harge was so obsessed with Therese and she didn’t… it didn’t change her mind. I was… surprised by that. You know how it is.”  
And Abby does know. There doesn’t need to be more of an explanation than that because they both know about the stigma that passes unspoken. Carol shrugs, hesitating a little before she continues the story.

“We probably would have carried on… dancing around each other in that strange middle ground between intimacy and superficiality but there was a fierce storm that night and something made her jump and shatter a glass right into her hand. I helped her clean it up, and honestly…” Carol hesitates, takes a sip of the hot chocolate again, trying to put off what she’s about to admit to because the words terrify her just a little bit. “…I… think that’s when I fell in love with her Abby. When I was on my knees in the bathroom in front of her and she was trusting me? With that? There’s an intimacy to handling someone’s blood… and I… knowing… even a little of what she’d been through, and yet she was willing to trust me? Not even just to host me but to be vulnerable in front of me? I can’t… describe how that felt.”

Her eyes flicked up, looking to Abby for comprehension, for understanding of something she wasn’t entirely sure she understood herself. What she’d felt for Therese was real, yes, but what she felt for Florence was on a whole different level. Abby watched her carefully for a long moment, taking a deliberate sip of her drink before she asked:

“You love her?”

Carol hesitates a moment and then nods, looking back up to meet her eyes.

“I… think I do. I hope you can meet her.”

“What about Therese?”

“I… don’t know yet. It’s… different. I had a nightmare that night, a dream that Rindy didn’t know who I was, and somehow… Florence heard me and she came in and… comforted me again. Just held me. I hadn’t really realised how long it had been since someone had treated me as a person, a whole person… apart from you, obviously. But Harge has been embarrassed by me for a long time, and his family thought I was a mistake from the start. Other than you and Harge… I don’t really have anyone. Didn’t really have anyone. The feeling of being seen, being recognised… that’s powerful, Abby.” 

“The next morning she invited me to stay for the holidays and we went shopping… I didn’t feel it was right to be part of their celebrations without giving something, especially since I wasn’t really invited to start with? I asked her what to buy for Lewis. He lost both his parents last year, so they wanted to make it special for him, his first Christmas living with Jonathan… He can only be about ten years old. Florence said he liked words, so I got him a thesaurus, which I know sounds odd, but he was very excited by it. I bought Florence a necklace. She’d been so kind to me that I wanted to give her something. It didn’t feel right not to. She was the one who bought me these earrings, actually.”

Her fingers went back to them almost instinctively, brushing over the gems again as Abby nodded, smiling fondly.

“They are beautiful.”

“They feel good to wear. They feel… they make me feel… happy. And safe. Which is silly for something so small as a pair of earrings, but… it was a lovely day. It really was. And Lewis was happy which was the main thing. It was for him really, after all. And then I… well, I was doing the washing up afterwards and I realised how much I missed Rindy, watching Lewis like that, and I did… I had a little wobble at the sink, and she was there, and she stepped in and held me again, without even hesitating. I…” Carol swallowed, hesitating, not quite meeting Abby’s eyes. “I may have left out something important… “

“What did you leave out?”

Carol hesitates, because this, even more than the tattoo feels so intimate to share. She can close her eyes now and be back in that bathroom, gently washing through that long hair, the way the light of the candles and the water had made her skin seem almost luminous, glowing pale and gold, the way her body had been braced for a blow, with her shoulders set firm and confident all the same as she bowed her head.

“…She asked me to help her wash her hair. Because of her hand. And I did. She was so… fragile and brave and strong and /perfect/.That was… that was beyond words. I’ve never had someone show so much trust in me before, on the basis of so little, and it made me wonder what she saw in me.”

Abby is silent now, watching her over the rim of her mug, and Carol can feel a flush on her cheeks, can’t quite meet Abby’s eyes still as she admits:

“…We kissed at New Year’s. At midnight. With the countdown. It wasn’t an accident or anything. I didn’t… kiss her. I wanted to.”

“Did she kiss you?”

“We kissed each other? It was…”

Carol fell silent for a moment. 

“…I left the next day. We didn’t… talk about it. She gave me a present for Rindy, and I left, and we haven’t… we didn’t talk. But I’m still thinking about her.”

“She sounds rather unforgettable.”

Abby’s tone is gentle, warm and fond, and Carol knows it so well.

“She is. Absolutely.”

Carol tugged the necklace out from her pocket gently, holding it up and letting it catch the light. 

“…She said this was her daughter’s. It was meant to be a kind of talisman, the kind of charm you give children to keep them safe. She said…” and her voice is shaking a little as she repeats those words that feel like they’re blazed into her soul, “She said she hoped it brought Rindy better luck.”

When she looks up again there are tears threatening in the corners of Abby’s eyes, and Abby doesn’t cry. 

“I didn’t realise people like her existed. I didn’t know. And now I do and I can’t stop thinking about her, and I want… I don’t know what I want, but I want to know her better, I want to spend time with her, I want… to feel the way I felt with her again.”

“Alright… so what are you doing to do about that?”

That’s the question she’s been dreading, because Abby always asks the important questions, and Carol doesn’t know the answer yet.

“…I don’t know.”

~

It was a few days since Carol had gone, and the world outside was starting to slowly pick up its pace again from the sleepiness of the holidays. Things were, to all intents and purposes, back to normal, but Florence was still finding it hard to adjust. Lewis would be going back to school soon, and although he’d hardly been here very long, he had reshaped their lives just by coming to New Zebedee. Really, a lot had changed in a short space of time. She had never expected to be confronted with a child again, and she had never expected to feel… well, that was part of the problem. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she was feeling. 

The idea of a love between two women or two men was hardly a new concept. She had been in the cafes of Paris in the twenties, for crying out loud. Although perhaps she didn’t talk about her past, for several reasons, it didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. She knew Jonathan would hardly believe some of the stories she had. She’d known more than just Dali and Monet in her younger days, and before Maurice there had been her share of lovers. He was the one who had held her attention, the one who, when she was ready to grow up, had been waiting for her and who had loved her. It was different being loved as a woman to being loved as a girl. There had been flirtations of course, a waitress, a dancer at the Moulin Rouge… nothing she had ever taken seriously. She could appreciate beauty, certainly, but they hadn’t appealed. She had always thought that she would never turn down a woman who wished to share her bed as long as there was something about them she found equally captivating, but there never had been and then she had married Maurice and settled down to a clean and sober life, for the most part. 

Maurice had been gone for twelve years now, and Celeste would be an adult, full-grown and beautiful and ready to take on the world. They had never had the chance. She’d accepted that now, accepted that tears wouldn’t bring them back and that even had she had a bent towards necromancy there were no bodies to raise. There was no grave, no memorial, and even if there were it would be on the other side of the world and somewhere she had no wish to return to. It was a pain she had tucked deep and thought never to return to, a sorrow that had been so utterly and completely overwhelming it could not be borne. Lewis had begun to dredge up some of it, a reminder at first of her failure, a voice mocking in her head all the time that she would fail again, that she would cause a child to die again, that she couldn’t protect him or anyone and that the world would end. That it would be her fault, but at least perhaps this time there would be nobody to remember, and she would never have been born at all. Isaac’s words to her had been much the same, but there had been that part of her that would not give in, the part that would not break, the part that had healed when she had believed she would live the rest of her life broken. Although she will never tell him, she knows that Lewis is the reason, because she could not let him die and this time it was enough because even the darkness of Isaac and Selina as avatars of Azazel had not been strong enough to overcome the power at the heart of her. The Nazis had been so much more than that.

She would have called it living, before, but she is coming to realise that it was just existing, that fear had made her shrink. Realising who she can be without the constraints she had put on herself is at once terrifying and liberating. It was enough, a better life where she could breathe again, this existence with Jonathan and Lewis and her magic, remembering things long-forgotten. She had been happy, and things had been simple, and she had been so very ready for simple… and then on one wild December night Carol had appeared from nowhere, stepping out of the storm and into her living room, and it should have been simple. It should have been an act of human kindness, of charity, a night’s shelter and a hot meal or two and nothing more than that, all the while running the risk of opening her home to someone mundane, someone who didn’t know her destroying all of this again. Except it hadn’t been, because nothing that was simple could stay that way. 

She wasn’t sure exactly when things had become complicated. It hadn’t been that first night, certainly, but perhaps the second… She can still remember the way Carol had taken care of her hand when she broke the glass, the lightness of the touches, delicate and sure and so kind they ached, because kindness was something she had all but forgotten. Carol had been kind, and beautiful, and her eyes and the way the light glinted off her hair as she had knelt on the cold, hard floor of the bathroom to clean and wrap a stranger’s hand… Something had shifted in that moment that Florence cannot put a name to, and it was then that she had decided she wanted to be greedy, to hold onto this woman and this kindness and these moments for as long as she could. 

It wasn’t like Jonathan, for all that that’s a friendship she treasures, as close as blood if not closer. She felt Carol with all her senses, the scent of her perfume and her cigarette smoke, the rustle of her dress and the low purr of her voice, the way the light played off her hair and her cheekbones and danced in her eyes… the feeling of Carol’s hands on her skin, always gentle and sure, not as if Florence might break, but as if she is something worth taking care of, worth cherishing. There is only one person who ever touched her like that before, and she had forgotten how it felt, never thought she might feel it again. She had never felt the urge to protect someone, to give them a part of herself since she had been married, since she had had a child, since she had lost them both. Without even meaning to, Carol had woken parts of her she’d almost thought were dead, and although it has only been a few days, Florence misses her. She’s worn the necklace every day since, and occasionally finds herself wrapping her hand around the pendant when she isn’t paying attention. It was never supposed to develop into something like this, it was supposed to be one night, a brief encounter, nothing more and now… everything is back to being complicated. 

She doesn’t regret kissing her, not really. It had felt like the right thing to do, like there was something hooked behind her breastbone, pulling her closer until their lips met, and it had been sweet and warm and /everything/. She still hopes it wasn’t a mistake, wonders if Carol hates her for it, but she doesn’t think so. She knows that just because Carol is attracted to women it doesn’t mean she’s attracted to /her/, except for those moments that passed between them, the moments that made electricity crackle on her skin, the glances and touches and secret smiles, and it doesn’t really serve her to deny that she finds Carol absolutely enthralling. Part of her wonders whether it’s a betrayal of Maurice, but he never wanted her to be sad, even in life, and she knows he wouldn’t begrudge this. In some ways, that doesn’t make it easier for her to admit what she wants, because she doesn’t quite know. All she knows is that what they had is not enough, not really, not if she’s honest, but that if Carol doesn’t want more… then it’s a price worth paying to hold on to a friendship which has, in a few short days, become more precious than gold. 

Sitting here pining isn’t getting the dishes done, though, and so she sets to work, trying to force her mind back to the task in hand, but all the same she hisses when an unsuspecting knife lurking beneath the surface catches her across the base of her thumb muscle. She bites back a curse when she lifts out her hands and notices it’s bleeding. All of a sudden then, her mind goes back to a week ago, the last time she had blood dripping from her hand, and the woman who had been there to take care of her the way nobody had for years, and Florence is taken by surprise as the sorrow hits her like a tsunami and she breaks down in silent tears. This time, though, unlike the times she had been there to hold Carol while she cried for her daughter, for herself, for the woman she had been and tried to be, unlike the time Carol had been the one to clean and bandage a gash to her hand, Florence is alone, and the sobs are aching as they fall into uncaring silence.


	19. Chapter 19

Three months later...

Spring has definitely sprung. The world has woken up from its winter sleep and the trees are all verdant green, with flowers bursting up on verges everywhere. Things had moved on, for the most part. Lewis was much more settled in at school now, and he and Rose Rita were getting on like a house on fire. Since the spring also meant that the insects were waking up and becoming much more active, they were doing a lot of bug hunting. Florence wasn't sure whether Rose Rita knew about Lewis' magic, but she already had a feeling the girl would be a safe person to tell. There was no harm in another addition to their little family, after all. 

It had been a night to sit up for a while and think about how things have changed in the space of only a few months, but also a night to work a little on her new business. It's still small for the moment, and she plans on keeping it that way. This is bespoke work, after all. She took inspiration from Christmas, from Carol and her daughter, from Lewis, and slowly started making custom charms, taking mail orders. It had honestly been a little touching to find that there were a few people who still remembered her name. Really, she'd hardly expected that to still carry weight after all this time, but it's bringing in a little money and it's /fun/, reminding herself of her power, learning new things, trying new challenges. She's specialising in protective magic, and honestly, it feels like the right thing to be doing. 

Still she'd finally gone to bed just before eleven, with an extra blanket because although the days are warm, the nights are still cold. Sleep came quickly, it comes easier these days because she is so much more at ease with herself and what she's doing, but it's barely an hour before she's roused by knocking at the door. The return to consciousness is slow at first, and then all at once as a surge of adrenaline passes through her. Midnight visits are hardly a thing with innocent connotations, and so she pulls on her robe and slippers and picks up her umbrella, taking a peek out behind the curtain before she goes downstairs to be sure that it really isn't a group of uniformed men waiting for her. 

The pale ghost of a car on the road is all the information she needs, and she sprints downstairs, remembering at the last second that she has to open the door herself rather than simply zapping it ajar. It feels like it takes an age to fumble with the locks, but when she does get it open she freezes, heart in her throat, at the sight that greets her. 

Carol is still perfect, and a superficial glance would never suggest that there was a problem. Her face is made up, her cheekbones highlighted just so, her lipstick not smudged, without a curl of hair out of place... but her eyes are red, there's the slightest hint of a smudge at the corner of one of them, and there's a tension in her shoulders which is practically vibrating.

The silence stretches for a moment, because neither of them knows quite what to say, until Carol's eyes drop and she says:

"...I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

Her voice is low, but its usual smoothness is gone and Florence knows what a throat raw with sorrow sounds like, and she steps aside without a moment's hesitation to let Carol across the threshold.

They end up in the kitchen, and Florence puts a pan on to heat some milk before she fetches the whisky from the other room. She has a feeling there might be a call for both of them tonight. 

Carol is sat at the table, her back ramrod straight, and the tension hasn't begun to ease yet. Despite herself Florence feels her heart skip a little when she notices Carol is wearing the earrings she gave her. Well, that makes her a little bit less worried about the drive, because hopefully the protection is still holding. She can sense the power in them, even from here. Maybe Jonathan was right, but she can't mind too much at the moment. They're doing their job, after all. 

Florence sets a mug of cocoa down on the table in front of Carol, with a glass of whisky beside it and a plate of cookies in the middle of the table, and then she sits down next to her, covering Carol's hand with her own where the woman is staring out into nothingness, just barely shaking, pale as the driven snow beneath her powder. 

The touch is apparently enough to bring her back to Earth and Carol's eyes flick to her, as if she's fallen back into her body from somewhere far away and there's a shadow of an almost-smile that passes across her face. 

"...What happened?"

"I... made a mistake, and now I don't know what to do. I've ruined... everything, and I don't... I don't know how to fix it."

The words are broken, and thin somehow. They aren't full of tears, and Florence suspects that those were all cried out on the drive down here. 

"I... went home. After we... after I stayed with you. I went home. Or, no, that's not quite... I went to see Abby. I didn't want to... the thought of being on my own was still too much, and I... so I stayed with her for a little while, and then I went home and..." she sighs, fingers flexing beneath Florence's hand, and instinctively Florence holds tighter as Carol glances away, fumbling for a cigarette and taking a drag before she continues, "...Therese called me. I thought... I assumed that I would never hear from her again, and I was fine with that, honestly. She can do better and I... well, I... had someone else on my mind. But she wanted to meet again and I didn't see the harm so we had lunch and then we went to a hotel. I still don't know why I did it. I wasn't... perhaps it was to see if she really was as out of my system as I thought she was. And she was. I think it was... mutually enjoyable but we both left feeling... as if we knew that things were resolved between us and it would never work beyond that."

She takes another drag, tapping the ash off against the rim of the ash tray Florence had added to the table with a deliberate flick of nervous fingers, following it up with a swallow from the whisky.

"It's strange but in some ways I still don't regret that, even now. Closing the door on something... the finality can be a relief, no longer holding on to fond dreams or might have beens... fantasies can be such a distraction. I rather put it from my mind until... well, I went out one night to meet Abby. We went into town, I needed to... get out of my own head for a while, and out of the house, but Abby was running late and so I ended up waiting at the bar in the hotel for her, dressed up to the nines and wearing those beautiful earrings you gave me... I..." She glances down, fingers drumming on the table, and then up at Florence, meeting her eyes, fear naked on her face, "...You'll have to bear with me on this for a moment. A girl started talking to me, out of nowhere and she... something about her set me on edge. She was very... intense, I don't know what fixated her on me... or I didn't know at the time. I've never had someone... set off alarm bells like that for me before. Fortunately Abby arrived before... well, we went out and I barely thought anything of it."

She ducks her head, shaking it quickly and stubbing her cigarette out as if the ash tray had done something to her, and Florence didn't think it was possible for there to be any more tension in her shoulders, but evidently she was wrong because Carol looks like a single touch would shatter her and her voice is shaking when she speaks again, looking away although her knuckles are white where she is clinging on to Florence's hand. 

"...Until this morning. There was a meeting with the lawyers and Harge, trying to... to sort out this mess with the custody arrangement and..." her voice breaks off in a sob and her fingers are scrabbling for a tighter hold and Florence moves closer, catching her elbow even as Carol is still angled away from her. "...They had tapes, and photographs... Some... twisted, cruel, inhuman son of a bitch... taped me with Therese, and... would have done the same, I suppose, with the girl in the bar... they had pictures of us, trying to make out that something was going to... I don't know what it was that warned me about her, she was so intent on trying to persuade me upstairs, I didn't understand, it was... so bizarre, but something about her set off every alarm bell I had... If I had gone with her..."

"...You think she was a set up?"

"I think so. I think they were trying to trap me with someone who would stand up in court and say whatever... they wanted her to say. Therese... wouldn't do that. No matter what they paid her, I don't think she would... and it wasn't enough and so they... if I'd gone with her..." Carol shook her head and drained what was left of the whisky, "As it is, it's enough to cost me Rindy forever, and I... I couldn't... stay there and... I know I'll have to go back, to face it, but... They have their proof and there is nothing I can do... Maybe if... they said if I agreed to psychotherapy, calling me crazy, but I'm not... I'm not crazy. I know that and I... going back... and trying to fit myself... back into that box... that cold, hard box that's not... that I was never meant to fit in, knowing that I am there through blackmail because at some point the man I loved enough to have a child with is using her and the threat of taking her from me to keep me? I... I love Rindy more than life, but she deserves to have both parents alive and well and going back to that... would kill me. It would be a death sentence. What use am I to my daughter, to anyone, if I'm living against my own grain?"

And not for the first time as Carol falls apart, her world in tatters around her, Florence gently guides her around, tucking the other woman into her shoulder, arms wrapped around her secure and safe. She presses a kiss to Carol's temple, instinctive more than anything else, and she can feel her shaking again, drawing her closer, holding her tighter. 

"... It may not feel like it now, but it will be alright." She stroked her fingers gently through Carol's hair, smiling a little as the other woman leant her head into the touch easily, "You're here now, and safe, and you are exhausted. Let's go to bed, and in the morning... things will seem clearer. Do you... need to call anyone? Do you need to let Abby know where you are?"

Carol shifts back from the embrace, nodding, swiping at her nose with the back of her hand and laughing wetly when Florence produces a handkerchief and hands it over. 

"...Yes, I probably should. I didn't... bring anything with me, I just... came straight from the lawyers' office, could I-"

"I'm sure I can lend you something."

Florence's voice is warm and sure, and there's a smile on her face that feels like sunshine on Carol's skin. She glances down and realises she's still clinging on to Florence's hand. If she concentrates, she can at least relax her grip, but she can't quite bring herself to let go, and her next words are hesitant.

"I... I hate to ask... I'm... I don't... think I can sleep alone, tonight. Could I-"

"In your place... I... wouldn't feel right, leaving you alone tonight. I'd be happy to share."

Carol nods, smiling shakily, and Florence waits a moment before she claps her hands and pushes back from the table.

"Alright. I'll go and find you something to sleep in, you can finish your cocoa and call Abby. I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear from you."

"Yes... you're probably right... Florence?"

"Hmm?"

"...Thank you."

"You're welcome, Carol. Like I told you when you left... you're always welcome here."

Florence turned and headed for the stairs, and Carol watched her go before she picked up her cocoa and headed through to the phone to call Abby. 

"Carol? Is that you?"

"...Yes Abby, it's me. I'm sorry."

"Where the hell are you?"

"...In Michigan."

"...You went back to Florence?"

"I... didn't know where else to go. I know I could have come to you but Harge- it wasn't far enough. I needed to just... drive. I didn't... plan on it exactly, but it's where I ended up."

"...I suppose that makes sense."

"How did you know I was..."

"Are you kidding? You go missing and the first place Harge looks is here."

"I'm so sorry..."

"He doesn't bother me, Carol, but you scared me. Where in Michigan?"

"It's... a very small town called New Zebedee. At the end of Main Street there's this huge old scary looking house. Next to it there's a small purple one."

"And you're in the small purple one?"

"I am in the small purple one. Abby I... I just drove, straight from the office, I don't..."

"I'll pack you a bag."

"...You don't have to come?"

Even to her own ears the words don't sound convincing. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Carol. Of course I'm coming. Besides, it'll be nice to meet Florence."

"...Thank you Abby. I don't know what I'd do without you. I... love you."

"I know, Carol. I love you too. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"...Goodnight Abby."

"Goodnight."

She sets the phone back into its cradle and lets her head fall into her hands. Her vision is blurring at the edges a little as the entire day's events catch up with her. She feels a hand land on her shoulder but can't even lift her head, simply leaning into the touch as Florence's hand gently slides from her shoulder to the back of her neck, rubbing gently and lightly, cool and soothing and coaxing her even further towards sleep. It's natural to let her head come to rest against Florence's stomach, and the fingers gently scritching in her hair feel so good...

"...Come on, love, time for bed..."

Carol makes a noise, pained and weary all at once, and Florence gently eases her up from the sofa, wrapping an arm around her waist, tucking Carol close against her side as she guides the other woman upsairs and into her bedroom. When she lets her go, Carol sways slightly on the spot and Florence is quick to help her lean against the wall. 

"...May I help you change?"

"Mmmm..."

Her brain feels fuzzy, her body is heavy and her vision is blurring. Words are hard, and exhaustion and high emotion have finally caught up with her, hitting like a body blow. 

Florence chuckles softly, and Carol is fairly sure she smiles in response but she can't be certain. She is sure that she offers no resistance as the other woman steps closer and gently begins to undress her. Florence is gentle and considerate, taking each piece of clothing and smoothing it out, hanging it up or folding it as is appropriate, easing a nightdress down over Carol's head before she's too vulnerable. It's light and soft and smells like Florence, with broad straps at the shoulders and coming down to just above her knees. It's far too much work to keep her eyes open now, and so Carol closes them and when Florence guides her away from the wall she goes willingly, falling into the soft bed, feeling Florence climb in with her and wrap around her. She tucks her face into the other woman's neck and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her, sinking into the warmth of her body and the closeness, letting sleep take her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm officially very nervous about this one. I hope you don't hate it.


	20. Chapter 20

It wasn't a short drive, and honestly Abby is almost impressed that Carol made it all the way out here yesterday. Then again, the state she was in when she left the lawyer's office it probably all passed in a blur. It had taken her enough time to find New Zebedee on the map - it really was in the middle of nowhere - but as soon as she'd heard from Carol she'd packed a bag of her friend's things and got in the car, with a break at a diner halfway there for a couple of cups of coffee. 

Main Street at least is fairly obvious in a small town like this, and as she follows it along she's pretty sure she's found the scary old house Carol mentioned. There is indeed a small purple house opposite, and she can see Carol's car parked on the street. She pulls up and gets the bag out, then notices a young boy of about ten years old coming out of the big old house with goggles on his head and a heavy school bag. 

"Excuse me, would you be Lewis by any chance?"

"Uh... yeah. Can I help you ma'am?"

"...Sorry, I realise that was probably a little strange, I've had a long drive. I'm a friend of Carol Aird, I'm looking for Florence?"

"Mrs Zimmermann? That's her house right there. Is Mrs Aird okay?"

"...I... I'm sure she will be."

"Has she come to visit again?"

"She has. I'm sure she'd be happy to see you later. Don't be late for school now okay?"

"I won't! Nice to meet you Mrs..."

"Gerhard. Miss. Call me Abby."

"Nice to meet you Abby! I guess I'll see you later!"

"...I'm sure you will."

Abby watched him run off down the path, unable to stop herself from smiling. She's never really wanted kids of her own, but being an aunt is kind of fun, and she can understand what Carol sees in him. 

She hefts the bag up onto her shoulder and walks down the path of the little purple house, knocking on the door. 

It's opened by a woman that Abby knows straight away must be Florence. Her silver-blonde hair is already neatly pinned back but she's wearing a purple silk robe and her eyes are warm. 

"...Hello, can I help you?"

"Abby?"

That's Carol's voice from behind her, and Florence steps back out of the sightline as Carol walks out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee cupped in both hands. Honestly Abby's relieved to see she doesn't look as bad as she'd feared. Perhaps Florence actually managed to help Carol get some sleep. 

"Oh Abby, you didn't have to come..."

Carol's set the coffee down now and is hurrying the few steps between them. Abby is already waiting to greet her, arms wide because she's been through this before. Not quite this, no, this is worse than before Christmas... but it's similar enough that she has some idea where to start, and it isn't the first time she's comforted Carol. 

"Don't be silly. Of course I did." 

She lowers the bag from her shoulder and hands it over. 

"Here. I brought you some things."

"...Thank you Abby. You're an angel, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Hopefully you'll never have to find out..."

As Carol took the bag, Abby smiled and turned to Florence, offering her hand. 

"Hello, I'm afraid we haven't been introduced. I'm Abby Gerhard, nice to meet you."

"Florence Zimmermann."

"Carol's told me so much about you."

"Oh..." and that was definitely a blush on those high cheekbones, "Has she?"

Abby grinned conspiratorially and patted her hand before she let it go. 

"Don't worry. All of it good. You have a charming home I must say."

"Thank you very much... you must be exhausted, did you drive all night?"

"More or less, yes. I don't suppose there might be a chance of some breakfast?"

"Of course. We just had some pancakes, there's a little batter left over, I'll make you some. And coffee?"

"Maybe one more cup, then if I can be really rude, a nap might not be the worst idea in the world?"

"Oh, of course. Don't worry the spare room is made up."

Abby's eyes flicked between Carol and Florence. Oh, so the spare room was made up, was it? That meant Carol hadn't slept in it last night. Then again on the other hand, she probably wouldn't have left Carol alone in the state she was in either. Still, perhaps it was a sign of progress between them? She hopes for something good, even in the middle of all this mess. 

"...Thank you, that's very generous. I do promise we won't make a habit of trespassing on your hospitality. I must ask though, I've never heard Carol rave about anything the way she does about your cookies, I don't suppose...?"

Florence laughed, already on her way to the kitchen.

"Of course. I'm flattered! What would a cup of coffee be without a chocolate chip cookie anyway?"

"See, I like you."

"How kind. I do believe I like you too."

Abby chuckled and followed her through, looking around. 

"You really do have a lovely home. I can quite see why Carol found it such a nice place to be."

"How kind..."

"She couldn't stop raving about you."

"Abby..."

Carol is still drinking her coffee, or at least using the mug as a convenient shield, and Abby grins at the way there's a blush on her friend's cheeks, because honestly a little teasing feels like fair payback after the last twenty four hours. 

"Well in that case I'm sure you'll find me terribly disappointing. Carol would you maybe show Abby the guest room while I make her some breakfast? I'm sure you two will want to catch up."

"Oh... yes, of course. Thank you Florence."

Carol sets the mug down on the draining board as she walks behind the other woman and in the most natural, instinctive gesture Abby thinks she has ever seen, presses a brief kiss to her cheek in passing as she turns towards the door. 

She gets as far as the doorway before she realises what she just did, and Abby is trying her utmost to watch both of them and not laugh. Florence is doing her best not to show any sign of reaction at all but her cheeks are pink and her back is ramrod straight, shoulders so tense Abby is certain she can hear the strain and internally it makes her wince. Carol on the other hand is frozen in place in the doorway, and the look she shoots Abby is verging on terrified. 

The battle to keep the laughter restrained is a losing one and it bubbles out as Abby steps forward and takes Carol's hand. 

"C'mon you dope, show me where I can lay my damn head for a few hours. You can unpack your things and I'll get my stuff so I can freshen up when I've had the chance to nap."

~

Carol shows Abby up the stairs to the little room she'd spent a week living in just before the new year. The bag Abby brought with her is already on the bed, and the brunette grins as she opens it and pullsout a stack of clothes and a sponge bag which she hands to Carol.

"Here. I wasn't sure how long you'd be here when you told me where you were, so I brought a few things. It should keep you going for a little while and I'm sure you can do laundry here if you need to."

"...Yes. Thank you Abby. I-"

"Save it, Carol. You don't need to explain anything to me. I don't think I've ever seen you look so... comfortable with another person in your space. And you're right, she is absolutely stunning."

Carol's smile is fragile but real, reminiscent of teasing about Rita Hayworth redheads in diners. 

"...Yes, and she can cook too. And she is... wonderfully kind."

"That much I'm getting. Do you know... how she feels?"

Carol sighs. 

"...We haven't... talked about it. Last night I was in no fit state really, and today I don't know that I'm much better. There doesn't seem to be a good time to... I don't know how to have that conversation. Besides which I'm terrified that I might just have ruined it all anyway. She's a very... private person. I understand that. And she doesn't know you and we haven't... we don't know where we stand with each other and I just... but it felt right and I did it without even thinking."

Abby shakes her head and pulls her friend into a hug. 

"...You really don't help yourself sometimes, you know that? I know... you were doing what you thought best, when you found Harge, when you had Rindy. I know how hard you tried, Carol, and you worked at it. Your relationship was already struggling even before you met Therese. That's what started it all really, isn't it? That's what reminded you. You were already getting divorced or you wouldn't have dreamed of it. I know you. This isn't your fault. Not really."

"I didn't have to go with her, Abby. I..."

"We all make bad choices but Harge was never going to let this... be easy. I hate him a little bit for that. I know you don't. I know you twist yourself in knots trying not to blame him, trying to find ways that this is your fault, but it's not. You have me, and you have Florence. You have Jocelyn too, and didn't you say Jonathan was a good man when you were here at Christmas?"

"I mean, yes I did, but Abby, they don't know-"

"From what you said, I don't believe for a moment that Jonathan would have a problem with anything that made Florence happy."

"...I just want to be with her. I don't even know how, I wouldn't mind if it was... nothing more than this but I..."

"Then you need to talk to her and see what she wants. But I don't think she's against the idea, Carol. I think she's scared, but I don't think she's against the idea. You can't read her mind, you can't make decisions for her, you can only take what you know which is that she has known about you since the second day you were here with her when you were a stranger and she has not judged you or turned her back on you. You know that she trusts you, that she has shared secrets with you, you know that she cares about you, you know that she has been willing to open herself up to you despite everything. You know that you kissed each other, and that when you came back after months she let you back in without a second thought, into her home and into her bed."

"It wasn't like- how did you know that?"

Abby sighs, cupping Carol's cheek and gently stroking it with her thumb, gazing up into those blue eyes, full of hope and want and fear all at once. 

"Because Florence said the spare room was still made up and I made an educated guess."

Carol's laugh is a little damp, but she's smiling when Abby leans up to press the lightest, chastest kiss to her lips because whatever passed between them before has changed but through everything there is always Abby. 

"...You always were a sharp one. Thank you. I just don't want to hurt her."

"I know. But I don't think you will."

"I hope not."

Carol straightens the clothes, wondering where to put them for a moment and then blushing a little as she realises the obvious place is Florence's room since this has been ceded to Abby. Sharing doesn't have to mean anything more than that, though. Not yet. She isn't sure she's ready for that yet anyway. 

"...So anyway Abby, how are things with that redhead?"

"I think I've put on at least ten pounds. Probably would have been more but we've been... keeping fit."

And Carol's eyes are dancing as she raises her eyebrows, halfway out the door when she meets Abby's wicked grin.

"Oh is that what we're calling it these days?"

"Hey, there's nothing better for a full-body workout! Keeps you young and beautiful."

"I'll take your word for it..."

"Oh I'm sure you'll be reminded before long..."

Carol flushes a little and gives Abby a /look/, but she's smiling all the same. 

"Hush you."

And Abby just winks, grinning and relaxed, because no, everything's not okay, not by a long shot, but at least she's here with Carol and they're both alright. Where there's life there's hope.


	21. Chapter 21

After Abby's gone to bed, Carol starts taking care of her dishes. It only seems fair, after all it's her friend who caused them and it's not right to expect Florence to clean up after her. This might not be her home, no, but... well, Abby's here because of her, so she feels some responsibility to host. She hardly looks up when Florence appears next to her, still unsure what to say.

"Oh no, you don't have to do that..."

"Please, it's no trouble... I... do appreciate you making Abby so welcome. I know she's rather come without warning. Well. We both did."

"It's no trouble at all. I'm... glad that you have a friend like Abby. It was good of her to come down. How... do you two know each other?"

Carol's eyes flick up from where she's focused on the washing up, looking for any hints of what might be going through Florence's mind. The other woman is watching her, dressed now in her usual beautiful shades of purple that look so perfect against her skin, and her face is perfectly calm, but there's a hint of something uncertain in her eyes. 

"...We were childhood best friends. I've known her since I was ten years old. We were... well. It's... a long time ago now. Ten years, maybe? Her car conked out somewhere near her mother's place and we ended up... cuddling into her old twin bed. That was the first time... well. Things got carried away between us. It didn't last very long. Bright but... short. We were over before I met Harge and then... well, it changed our friendship, but it didn't kill it, it's just another part of our relationship. Harge could never accept that though. I was always faithful to him while we were together. Always. I don't... know if I can say the same for him. I don't know if it matters really. I was determined to try, to give it my all but... well. We were separated before I met Therese and then... just a chance encounter in a department store and everything... spiralled so incredibly out of control."

She finishes scrubbing the plate clean and sets it in the drying rack, peeling off her washing up gloves and setting them aside to dry as Florence nods slowly, taking in everything Carol has so freely offered her. 

"And... I suppose I have to ask... What... about us? I know we haven't... talked about it, but I..."

Carol's stomach is twisting as she turns, hands braced on the countertop because the least she can do is face Florence when they talk about this. 

"...Well I suppose that depends? I... " She swallows, trying to pull together the remnants of her courage because really this conversation was inevitable, and of all the many things she appears to have gotten wrong lately she cannot afford for this to be another one. "...You are... I have never met anyone like you before. I have never ever found someone it is so... comfortable to be with. You are incredible, and you feel like home and I... would be grateful for whatever you are willing to give me."

There's a pause before Florence takes a step towards her, closing the distance between them just a little. 

"...So you're saying I hold the power here?"

"...I'm saying that I... don't think I've ever felt for anyone else before the way I feel for you. That having you in my life is a privilege and that I... would be... grateful to have you in my life in whatever way you feel comfortable. And that I understand if it isn't... in that way. I can't... deny that side of myself anymore, and I don't want to. I've been trying to for years and it doesn't help, it just hurts and feels like existing not living. I once thought I would do anything to keep my daughter with me, but she... there is nothing I can do to undo what's been done, and she will lead a better life if she has both parents alive and... doing more than existing and slowly withering away. I've been open with you from the start and you haven't... treated me differently because of it. You've been nothing but patient and understanding and so... incredibly strong and kind. I could tell you that I don't know when I fell for you but that would be a lie. I suppose really... I'm saying that I love you, but that I understand if you don't want that love."

Florence is almost close enough to touch at this point, but Carol makes no move to bridge that gap because it's so important that the ball is in Florence's court now, that she's free to make her own decisions. 

"It... isn't a concept that's foreign to me. I've never... been with a woman, no, but when I was younger, in Paris... it happened. It wasn't unusual. I wouldn't have been against it but there was never... the right person. And then I met my husband. Since he... died, I haven't... there hasn't been anybody. I hadn't even thought about it. You arriving was no different, because it was only going to be for one night and there is... an anonymity in that. When you stayed... I found myself... I have survived this long by keeping walls around me, tall and strong and safe, because without them... I couldn't face functioning. Those walls have never come down around anyone as fast as they did with you. Not even with Jonathan. I was... thinking things and feeling things... that honestly I didn't recognise at first. It had been such a long time and the thought of feeling it again... partly at first it felt like a betrayal, but partly also... I suppose if I expected to feel them again, to think them again... I didn't expect it to be for someone like you. But it was. It is. And I see no point in denying it either. I've spent too long... denying things. Being hurt, being scared. When I met him... Maurice was not the only man in my life. But he waited for me, and he loved me. He never tried to change me, he just wanted me to be happy, and I don't think... I don't think that would have changed. Really after all this time I don't know what I have to offer, but if I am what you want... then perhaps we can find out together?"

There's a beat as Carol tries to process all of those words, where she's been braced for rejection, as kind as she knew it would be from Florence. Instead she stares, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. 

"You mean-"

"...If... we can agree that perhaps we can be friends, if it doesn't work, then... yes. But there is perhaps... something you should know about me first-"

"Well hey there Florence! Carol, great to see you again, I thought I recognised your car out there... there's another one too, you know anything about that?"

Jonathan freezes in the doorway as he's fixed by matching sets of blue eyes, and Florence looks like a rabbit in the headlights and Carol has tears threatening in her eyes again out of sheer relief if nothing else. His hands come up, and by some miracle he doesn't quite physically backpedal out of the room again. 

"Woah okay I've obviously walked in on something... I'm sorry, do you want me to come back later or...?"

He gestures a thumb back over his shoulder and Florence sighs, shaking her head and pushing away from the counter, away from Carol, as much as it almost physically hurts to do so. 

"No it's fine. Hello Jonathan."

"I saw your car, I figured I'd stop by, say hi, see if everything was okay... I'm... guessing everything is not okay...?"

"You always were perceptive for a gorilla."

"And the other car...?"

"A friend of mine. Abby. She... came to check I was okay and bring me some clothes. I drove down in rather a hurry last night."

"Ah I see well... is there anything I can do to help?"

He takes a look at Florence's face and her raised eyebrows. 

"...Other than possibly leaving you two in peace?"

Florence looks at Carol, leaving the ball in her court, because despite the conversation they had been having, this is Carol's crisis and she gets to choose who she shares it with. 

Carol hesitates, glancing at Florence almost as if for permission before she offers Jonathan a smile. 

"...If you have time... I rather feel like I need all the friends I can get at the moment. Certain circumstances have made me realise that... I don't actually have all that many. I'm rather hoping you might be one of them."

"If there is anything I can do, I would be more than happy to help."

"...Maybe we should sit down and talk about this?"

"Should we wait for Abby?"

Carol hesitates for a moment and then nods again, smiling gratefully at Florence, who moves to take her hand, standing close enough to lean on again even though Carol doesn't feel the need to close the gap just yet. She's grateful just to have her close. 

"...That does seem best. Perhaps a little council of war?"

Jonathan is watching them from the doorway, and he nods, smiling a little more softly now. 

"...Is that how it is?"

Carol isn't sure whether he means the severity of the situation, or her and Florence. She's still adjusting to the fact that this really might be happening, that it's no longer a dream, that Florence is here and with her and not hiding anything. She's scared even to trust Jonathan, but Florence trusts him and Carol trusts Florence and really she just wants somewhere, some safe space in this world where she can be proud of who she is and the woman she loves. 

"Yes. That's how it is."

Florence's voice is stern, almost but not quite challenging as she takes Carol's turn and faces him, shoulders and jaw set, but Jonathan only nods. 

"...Alright. Well that's cool. So how about a little lunch before this council of war?"

"Yes, lunch, what a good idea. I'll make some sandwiches."

"Actually Florence, do you have a moment?"

She glances at Carol, almost as if for permission, and Carol smiles. 

"Go ahead. I'll make a pot of coffee. He probably just wants to check that you're alright. I know I would want to under the circumstances."

Florence nods and, after a brief hesitation, kisses Carol softly on the cheek. 

"...Alright. Thank you. I won't be long."

Carol can feel herself blushing as Florence follows after Jonathan, and she takes a moment to smooth her apron down and bask in the warmth that feels like it's suffusing every inch of her. 

~

"What do you want, Jonathan? Honestly, you might call me the purple pachyderm but there's nobody to touch you blundering your elephantine way into conversations that don't concern you."

He holds his hands up in a placating gesture and Florence sighs, taking a deep breath because this is Jonathan and she trusts him absolutely after all they've been through. Despite appearances, he's not a complete oaf after all. 

"I just want to check that you're okay. This is... well, maybe not entirely out of the blue I guess but it's... a lot. I'm not trying to patronise you, you're a smart woman, smarter than me, and I can imagine that this very much isn't a case of you not knowing the risks but..."

"...No, thank you... I'm... I'm okay. I think. It's... it is new. And it isn't what I was expecting or what I was looking for but it feels... I want this, Jonathan. I know... well, I know you might... disapprove, but..."

"I don't see why? I mean... the way I see it, love is love. I don't really think, after everything that you've lost, that anyone else gets to tell you what you should or should not want or have. And she seems nice. She's good for you. You're good for each other, really, and that's more important. So I don't have a problem with it. But if anything happens... I'm going to be on your side, you know that, right?

Florence's smile is fragile but real, and she nods, just once, sharp and deliberate and controlled. 

"...I know. Thank you. I wouldn't have it any other way. I... understand if you would prefer we kept it from Lewis, though?"

"Nah. I mean for one thing there's no reason to, and the boy knows when to keep his mouth shut. For another, he's a smart kid, and anything we try to keep from him he'll figure out lightning fast anyway. We know that. You're part of our family, and that means you shouldn't have to hide who you are. If who you are involves loving Carol then... you might not be able to do that anywhere else, but you can with us. And I guess that makes her part of the family too."

After a moment's hesitation, Florence does something she almost never does, and steps forward to hug Jonathan tight. Usually they're not given to physical demonstrations of the bond between them, but there are times that call for it and no words that do justice to the weight of what he just said. Jonathan squeezes tight, then steps back, eyes serious once more. 

"...So does she know about you?"

"About...? Oh. No. Not yet. I was about to tell her when you walked in, as a matter of fact."

"...Ah I see. Poor timing on my part indeed then. But would you... like back up for that conversation?"

"...I think I would. But it seems unfair to have it two on one. Maybe... it's something we should address at the council of war."

"...You want to tell Abby too? You barely know the woman."

"I don't. But Carol trusts her, and I know she can keep secrets. I'm tired of there being so many parts of me of which I'm supposed to be ashamed. I didn't tell her before because... well, there was no point. That's a secret that's easy to keep if you're careful, even moreso from a distance, but she's here now and we're... if we're going to do this, I am not building it on lies. Carol has had enough lies to contend with already."

"...Alright. If you're sure about this. But like I said, I've got your back."

"I know."


	22. Chapter 22

Lunch is a civilised affair, and when Abby wakes from her nap there are still plenty of sandwiches left over. Florence makes up a plate for her and sets it down in front of the brunette while Carol pours another round of coffee and the four of them settle around the kitchen table. 

"Are you feeling better?"

"Oh yes, much, thank you. That's a very comfortable spare room. I just desperately needed a couple of hours sleep."

"I'm not surprised, that was a very long drive."

"You really didn't have to come down, Abby..."

"Don't be a dope. Anyway, I think introductions are in order... you must be Jonathan."

"Well yes I am as a matter of fact. And you must be Abby."

Florence sighs and steps in to make the formal introductions.

"Jonathan Barnavelt, my neighbour, this is Abby Gerhard, Carol's dearest friend."

Jonathan bows a little, ever the gentleman.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Abby's answering smile is warm as she takes a draught of coffee.

"Likewise I'm sure. What did I miss while I was out? Anything important?"

Florence and Carol share a look, wondering what they should say and who should say it first.

"Well..."

Abby grins mischeviously at Jonathan over the rim of her mug.

"Don't tell me these two finally got their heads out of the sand?"

Carol attempts to retake control of the conversation this time, but Abby cuts her off before she can really explain anything.

"Actually..."

"About damn time."

Carol sighs, and Florence rolls her eyes a little, trying to pretend there isn't a blush high on her cheeks as she smiles a little. 

"...Alright, perhaps now that we've established that we can move on to talking about other things?"

"You know, this is why I think this is going to work. Carol needs someone who's not afraid to take charge."

"...Could you possibly stop talking about me as if I'm not here?"

"No."

Carol sighs and lets her head fall into her hands, but she's still smiling because there's something so incredibly reassuring about Abby bundling her along like this. The brunette sets her mug down and gently rubs Carol's back, still grinning impishly. 

"Not my fault. You've been talking about her non-stop for three months, then I finally get to meet her and discover she's everything you've been saying and more, and also completely into you but you're both so deep in denial I'm surprised you haven't been eaten by a crocodile on your way past the pyramids. I'm allowed to enjoy this, Carol. Let me have this. I do so much for you."

"I know. You're noble and selfless and I'm very lucky to have you."

"Exactly right. Thank you. It's so nice to be recognised as I'm due."

Florence's eyes are dancing and she's trying not to smile as Jonathan laughs next to her. She reaches across the table to take Carol's hand because really it seems only fair, but she smiles at Abby as she meets the brunette's sparkling eyes. 

"...I knew I liked you."

"I like you too. You're good for her. I hope she's good for you too."

"You know, I rather think she is."

"Good. That's all that matters. So, what do we need to talk about?"

"Well I still don't really know what's going on, so could we maybe catch me up?"

Jonathan asks, and Abby and Florence both share a glance before they look at Carol because it's her story and she's the only one who really has the right to tell it, as long as she feels able.

Florence is still holding her hand, but Abby takes the other as Carol takes a deep breath and Jonathan watches, waiting quietly and patiently until she's ready. 

"I... part of the reason I was travelling before Christmas was just... to get away from everything. Things in my life were... spiralling out of control and becoming very... unpleasant. My husband and I are... separated. Divorcing, actually. We'd reached an agreement on custody of our daughter and things were... amicable. I was... doing my Christmas shopping and I met a girl who... captivated me. I... Abby and I... have... a little bit of history, and Harge, my husband, knew about that. I won't lie and say that there wasn't something about her that... reminded me of things I had been trying to forget or ignore. Since then we've... established that it's not meant to be between us. I had invited her to come with me on my drive, but she didn't feel able to come, and so I came alone. I'm... really rather glad that things worked out like that, actually. Meeting you, and Lewis, and... meeting Florence. But the reason I needed to... run away like that was because Harge... discovered Therese and I together, perfectly innocently, just talking... but he used that as a reason to change his mind. That if he couldn't have me, I couldn't see my daughter. I..." Carol pauses to swallow, and Florence and Abby both squeeze her hands, lending her their strength while Jonathan watches with compassion on his face. "I tried, really, I tried to be what they wanted but I couldn't... and having met Therese and... remembered, and then met Florence... and then there was..." Carol sighs again, letting go of Florence's hand to comb her fingers back through her hair out of frustration, "...Yesterday morning there was a meeting with the lawyers and my ex-husband, and they had... somehow taped the encounter I had with Therese, and they had tried to set me up, to entrap me with someone else who they could then have brought to the stand to sue for custody and humiliate me in public."

"...I am so sorry. That is awful. Is there... any chance they traced you here?"

Florence shoots Jonathan a warning look, because although the sympathy was appropriate, and she knows he means it, the change feels almost selfish when the focus should be on Carol... except that he doesn't look at all apologetic and there's something about his instinct to protect her even though she doesn't need it which still thrills her. 

Carol shakes her head though, meeting Jonathan's eyes steadily as if she understands his concern. 

"No. No, I don't think so. If they didn't before... The only place Harge knows that I ever run to is Abby's, and I'm not there now. If I had come with Therese perhaps it would have been possible to find us then too, Harge knew her name and where she worked, and with our descriptions that might have been easy too, but... There is no reason for me to be in Michigan, let alone in a place this small. I would... never knowingly put Florence at risk."

"...Alright. I appreciate that. I hope you don't mind me asking."

"No, no I completely... I completely understand. I'm glad that you asked. Florence needs people like you in her corner. Like I have Abby."

"I completely agree."

Florence sighs. 

"Really, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."

"That we know and trust, is it really so terrible that we might also want to look after you so you don't have to do it all on your own?"

"...No I suppose not."

Abby smiles. 

"Good. Well that's that then. So, what now?"

Florence hesitates and shares a glance with Jonathan.

"I... think perhaps we should talk about how to move forward, but... before that, there's perhaps something that... you should know. That I should... tell you."

"Is this what you were going to tell me earlier?"

"It is. And it's... you might not believe me, and I... would be lying if I pretended that I wasn't terrified to share it with you. Let alone with both of you."

Abby hesitates, but as hesitant as it is the offer is sincere when it comes. 

"Would you prefer me to leave?"

"No, I... perhaps if things had gone to plan earlier, but perhaps it would be... I thought perhaps Carol might prefer to have some support. And now I have Jonathan to back me up and it would hardly be fair to... I... hope that you will... even if this changes things, even if... knowing what I will share with you, you no longer wish to... if it changes your mind I understand, but I hope that you both will do me... the courtesy of keeping my confidence."

Carol is frowning, glancing between Jonathan and Florence, and then looking at Abby as she instinctively once more takes the brunette's hand. Abby glances at Carol, then meets the eyes of the two sitting across from them. 

"...I think at least we can promise you that."

Florence watches them for a long moment, then nods, debating internally whether or not to take Jonathan's hand. No. He's here, and that's enough. 

"I... am a witch. It's not... something I'm saying for fun, or some childhood game. I hope... well, I hope perhaps that you know me well enough to be certain I'm not some fantasist. Jonathan is a warlock. It's a large part of why we're friends. I... would like to be clear that I have never cast a spell on you. I don't bewitch people. It's unethical and immoral, and I won't do it. I didn't tell you before, because... it's a dangerous truth to tell. I didn't know if you would ever come back into my life, and even when we were friends... it's hardly difficult to keep up as a lie from a distance. But if we're... doing this. If we're trying this. Then you deserve to know the truth, and perhaps... we can help. In some ways, perhaps I already have."

"You already have? But you said you hadn't..."

Florence hesitates, then shrugs. 

"...The earrings are... protective charms. So is the necklace for your daughter. It was for my daughter too, once upon a time. I... enhanced it a little before I passed it on to you. I... you once asked what my doctorate was. It was a study of the properties of magic amulets. I was... am, I suppose, one of the world's experts on the subject. I hadn't... done anything with that power for such a long time, but you... came into my life, and you were going through such a difficult time, and you were so kind to me and I wanted to protect you. Your earrings are... very powerful. I was a little out of practice, I couldn't temper the power perhaps quite as I wished. Jonathan and Lewis could both sense them when I gave them to you, even before you unwrapped them."

"...Is this... some kind of shared delusion?"

Abby is watching them both, but so is Carol, her grey-blue eyes on Florence's. 

"...The girl in the bar."

Florence nods.

"You said you were wearing them."

"And the drive down here, I was barely paying attention to anything, but I still..."

Abby shakes her head, still the voice of reason.

"Those could be coincidence. Gut instinct."

Carol tilts her head, eyes still on Florence, and that gives her hope that perhaps all isn't lost quite yet. She wasn't dismissing her out of hand, after all. 

"When you say you're a witch... The magic, is it something you're born with?"

Florence shakes her head, shoulders set once more the way they had been in the bath, and Carol's heart aches a little to see the woman she loves braced that way again. It's hard to believe that she would be putting herself through this for nothing, however hard it is to believe that this might be true. In some ways, really, it isn't hard at all, instead it feels like things are falling into place where perhaps they hadn't made sense before.

"No. Anyone can learn. Everyone has some latent power, it's just that it rarely becomes more than that without proper training."

Carol's gaze flicks between Jonathan and Florence, and Abby is watching them both too. She can't help asking.

"Anyone?"

Abby snorts.

"Tch. Prove it."

Florence sighs. The demand for proof is hardly unexpected, but she's surprisingly weary, and this aches deep inside because she never knows what will satisfy. 

"How?"

"However you want."

Jonathan sighs too. 

"Maybe we'll all feel better for a cookie. I know it always makes me feel better. Florence?"

She waves her hand and a plate of cookies appears in the middle of the table. Carol and Abby both stare at it. 

"...That doesn't prove anything. You could be drugging them."

"And what would be the point in that?"

She's trying to keep the ache out of her voice, really, she is, because this isn't easy and she's still so scared of how wrong this could go.

"Money?"

"I have never asked for a penny."

Meanwhile Carol takes off one of her earrings and turns it over in her fingers, staring at it as if she's never looked at it before. 

"...It's purple, isn't it? Your power?"

"Yes."

Abby glances sideways at her friend, doubt all over her face. 

"...You can see it?"

"I can. Look."

Carol hands over the earring, taking the other one off to continue examining it herself. 

"It's practically glowing."

"That could just be the light..."

Florence fights to keep her voice even as she asks:

"What will convince you, then?"

"I suppose I just don't really understand. Besides, if you're so powerful why are you living here in the middle of nowhere?"

Carol glances up and tries to intervene. 

"Abby..."

Florence offers no resistance when Jonathan's hand comes to rest on her shoulder, squeezing gently as she closes her eyes for a moment and tries down to fight the ache in her chest.

"I was. Once. But like I said, magic is latent, it comes from the inside. I... broke, once. I don't know if Carol told you." She pulls her sleeve up, angling the harsh lines of the tattoo into the light, suddenly completely unashamed and just... tired. "I broke and it never healed, and every spell I tried to work after that came out... broken. Until last year. When Lewis came and there was a... well, if you don't believe me about the rest why would you believe me about that. There was someone determined to end the world, and he threatened Lewis. I might have lost my daughter, I might have failed to protect her, but I was not going to sit by and let another child die. It was enough to bring my power back and I've been... coming to grips with it again ever since, being several years out of practice. Those earrings were the first big project I've done since then."

Carol's voice is hesitant as she asks:

"Do I have magic?"

"You both... have potential?"

"Can you see it?"

Florence nods, slowly. 

"...I can."

"...Can you show us?"

Florence glances at Jonathan, then back at Abby and Carol. 

"I can... we can. Do you... both want to see?"

Abby and Carol exchange a glance. Abby sighs.

"...Yes. I think so."

Florence stands and walks around behind Carol, resting her hands so gently on the other woman's shoulders for a moment before she slowly passes them over Carol's eyes. The moment they've passed, Carol's eyes widen and Florence steps behind Abby to do the same, her heart in her throat. 

The two ladies look at each other, and Abby jumps almost out of her seat. 

"...You're glowing."

"...So are you."

"What... you look... it's copper. It's beautiful."

"You're golden, darling but you've always been my golden girl."

Carol blushes and squeezes Abby's hand, while Abby is smiling at her hesitantly. 

There's a long, long moment, and Abby turns to Florence, still holding Carol's hand. 

"...Alright. I suppose I believe you. How long will this last?"

"Probably an hour or so with my magic. You can learn to see it yourselves though."

Carol still looks interested. 

"Is that hard?"

"It depends... how much you want to learn to do. Just to see... it takes some study, but not necessarily years? More than that... some have a natural aptitude for it, like Lewis for example."

"Lewis too? Don't you think there's something wrong bringing a child into this kind of..."

Despite herself, Florence's tone is sharp. She's been trying to keep this polite and civilised but she has spent years trying to be polite and civilised and small and not draw attention and the ache of all those years is behind her breastbone now as somebody who barely knows her tries to imply she might harm a child.

"This kind of what?"

"Well... cult?"

Jonathan finally cuts in and she has rarely felt so grateful for his presence in her life. 

"We're not a cult. Lewis is powerful, and he's learned fast. People often turn to magic when they don't feel like they fit in. That's how I found it. Lewis came here as an orphan, moving halfway across the country. He's always been different. Now he's got something that's his, and it empowers him, lets him feel strong. Most magic users don't agree on anywhere near enough to be a cult, and symbols of religion are very powerful. It's not something that takes the place of it, it just... runs alongside."

Abby sighs, and stares at her hands again, turning them over and marvelling at the bronze sheen that now seems to cover them. It's not as strong as the purple aura around Florence, or the red around Jonathan, but it's undeniably there all the same, just like the brass that shimmers around Carol. 

"...Alright. So we've got two magic users. What do we do now?"

As the tension ebbs slowly from the room, Florence retakes her seat opposite Carol and glances at the blonde. 

"...Whatever Carol wants to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://demon60327akuma.tumblr.com/post/184320087753/inspired-by-chapter-22-of-one-night-by
> 
> LOOK AT THIS AMAZING GIFT OF FANART FOR THIS CHAPTER! By the wonderful demon60327akuma :D


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just take a moment before we start to yell about this? https://demon60327akuma.tumblr.com/post/184320087753/inspired-by-chapter-22-of-one-night-by The amazing demon60237akuma has illustrated a scene from the last chapter and it is beautiful and amazing and I am so excited. So, so excited. Thank you!!!

Abby sighs, but she's a little less defensive now, her hackles lowering at last. 

"...Alright. That at least I can agree with."

She turns to Carol, taking her friend's hand again because it's so very important for Carol to know that she's not alone, no matter how impossible what she's facing might feel right now. 

"...What do you want to do, love?"

"I... don't know yet. Part of me wants to just... hide away here and never go back, but... I have to at least try to fight for my daughter."

"You have a place here, always. As long as you want it."

Carol's eyes flicked to Florence, and she smiled shyly. 

"...Thank you. That... helps a lot."

"You can't fight for Rindy from here, at least, not without giving away where here is. After what Harge already did..."

"No, you're right Abby. I'll have to go back to New York. I don't want this to end up in court, but if it has to... I had hoped we could negotiate something, at least until he did this. Now I'm not sure. I never dreamed he would be capable of something like that."

"People do strange things when they're desperate."

Florence squeezes Carol's hand. 

"What do you /want/?"

"...I want my daughter."

"And if that's not possible, what would you be happy with?"

"Visits. Regular visits. Unsupervised, if I can... but I can't lose her, and if the only way I can take care of her is by making sure I have regular visits with her, making sure that she knows that I love her, and that when she is an adult and can make her own choices... that I will be waiting for her . I will not compromise on that. I can't."

The other three all nod, and Carol feels some of the tension bleed out of her shoulders at being understood. It feels so much less lonely suddenly, sitting at this kitchen table in a pool of sunshine she can barely feel, in the middle of nowhere Michigan. For so long her life had been small, it had been Harge and Rindy and Abby. She's lost Harge now. She lost him a long time ago, and losing him looks like it must mean losing Rindy. She felt like she had nothing left, barely even Abby... except that now she's sitting here, with Abby and Florence and Jonathan, in a house that feels like a home, with people who care about her. Not being alone is a nice feeling.

"I... think perhaps the place to start would be by calling your lawyer? I... understand running out of something like that, but if you didn't discuss it with him, you may have some options, some grounds, some ways to fight that you don't know about yet? That's what you pay him for, after all."

Carol takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly because that makes a lot of sense. In the moment it was hard to believe that there was anything at all that could be done, and she's so tired of pretending that she isn't like this, that she doesn't love the people she loves. She's also tired of pretending that there is something wrong with her because of that. 

She nods, squeezing Florence's hand.

"...Yes. That... That sounds like a good step forward. Thank you. Do you mind if I use your phone again?"

"Of course. Would you prefer... that is to say would you like company, or would you prefer privacy? I know it won't be... an easy phone call to make."

"...No. No, it won't. And I won't pretend I'm not scared. I'm scared to share it as much as I am to make it on my own, but all the same... I suppose here there is little point in hanging on to the shame."

"No, there isn't. It's not as if you have anything to be ashamed of anyway."

Carol shoots Abby a grateful smile at that, as the brunette lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. Then she glances to Florence, whose hand she's somehow still holding. 

"...Would you... perhaps... hold my hand?"

And Florence's answering smile is warm and real as her eyes shine and she leans forward to brush a chaste kiss over Carol's cheek. 

"...I would be honoured."

"Do you want to do that now?" Abby asks as she stubs her cigarette out in the almost overflowing ashtray, and Carol exchanges a nervous glance with Florence.

"What's the time?"

It's Jonathan's voice that cuts across them this time, and the four of them all turn as one to look at the clock on the wall. 

"...Lewis will be home from school soon. He'll probably come straight over here. I can go home and meet him there and try to distract him, or-"

"Would you mind? It's important to call the lawyer as soon as possible and given that he goes home at five..."

"Of course. It was nice to meet you, Abby, and nice to see you again Carol. Thank you for trusting me with all of this."

"Thank you for being worthy of that trust. It's a difficult habit to get into."

"Given the circumsances that brought you here I can quite understand why."

"Jonathan, perhaps you and Lewis would like to join us for dinner?"

"...Yes, thank you. That would be perfect. If it's alright by you, Carol?"

"...Absolutely. I look forward to seeing him again, and I'm sure Abby would like to meet him."

"I met him this morning, briefly, but yes, I would like to meet him again."

"Actually, Jonathan, why don't you give Abby a tour of your home? It's such an interesting place, and now that she's really in a position to enjoy it..."

"What? Oh... uh... yeah, sure... Miss Gerhard would you care to visit my humble abode?"

Abby's gaze flicks between Florence and Carol, and Florence knows that her suggestion wasn't particularly subtle, but things are changing so rapidly between herself and Carol and she desperately wants to put the brakes on for a moment so they can talk in private. Besides which, all of this is messy, and in Carol's place she would certainly welcome some breathing space and perhaps a little comfort.

Abby sighs but stands, resting her hand on Carol's shoulder for a moment, and Florence watches as Carol's head tilts towards her, almost instinctively, some kind of silent reassurance passing between the two of them. 

"...Alright. Thank you, that sounds fascinating, but please do call me Abby."

Jonathan beams and bows as he gestures for Abby to go ahead of him. The brunette shoots one more worried look back over her shoulder as she goes, but she leaves all the same. 

The silence hangs until the door shuts, and Florence exhales, smiling a little as Carol mirrors her almost perfectly. 

"...Are you as tired as I am?"

"...It has been rather exhausting, hasn't it. I... am sorry about Abby. She's... probably right to have reacted the way she did. Sometimes I'm not sufficiently sceptical. If I were, perhaps I wouldn't be in this mess at all. Still, for her to... I'm sorry that you felt the need to share your past so openly with her, in front of all of us. I suppose Jonathan probably knew, but the feeling is always different in a group rather than in confidence. Magic? Really?"

Florence winces a little, but she nods and takes Carol's hands gently.

"...It is. Thank you. I don't blame her, not for a moment, but I will not lie and say that was by any means easy. And yes, really."

Carol smiles, secret and sweet. 

"Maybe after this phone call you might... tell me a little more about it? And thank you... for everything... I don't think I will ever be able to put into words how much I appreciate everything you've done for me..."

Florence can feel herself blushing as she smiles in return, almost shy about it. 

"Of course. And I... really... I..."

"Don't say it was nothing. Don't even begin to say that. I can tell those are the words on your lips, but we both know it's not true. You took me in, you gave me shelter, showed me kindness... and love. You have trusted me, handed me a naked blade pointed at your breast and trusted me not to plunge it into your heart. You have shown me... aspects of this life, this world which had been previously hidden to me, things I had never dreamed... 

"...It... cost me little, and I was glad to give it."

Carol shifts a little closer, enough for her breath to tickle Florence's cheek as she tilts her head, eyes still warm and unwaveringly on Florence's. 

"...I cannot believe either that it cost you so little... but I would still... like to thank you."

"Thank me?"

Carol is the one who leans forward and closes that little gap between them, and Florence relaxes into the kiss, her eyes closing. The kiss is warm and sweet, soft and unhurried as their hands remain linked.

When they break apart, both women are blushing, but smiling. Some of the tension has bled from them, and from the air around them, as Carol takes a few deep breaths. 

"...I suppose I should make that phone call?"

Florence smooths her skirts as she stands, smiling as she reaches to offer Carol her hand. 

"...I suppose so. Shall we?"

"We shall."

Carol follows Florence through into the living room and sighs heavily as she flops down on the couch. She pulls a face and then laughs when Florence mimics her, sitting down gently beside her and gently wrapping an arm around Carol's waist. Carol offers no resistance to leaning into her side, closing her eyes and savouring this moment, the feeling of being held and steadied and secure. She knows she should reach for the phone, but instead she turns her body, tucking herself into Florence the way she has so many times before and just breathing as Florence's arms wrap around her. This time she wraps around Florence in return, wanting to hold on tight, wanting to offer something in return now that this... thing between them is reciprocal. 

It's almost as if the world outside has ceased to matter, just for this one moment, for the chance to hold Florence and breathe. It takes a moment for her to realise that she's never really held Florence like this before. Florence has held her so many times, and each of those occasions feels burned into Carol's mind, but she's never really had the chance to reciprocate before and it suddenly seems so right. She wants to be able to hold Florence like this, to explore all the ways their bodies fit together because this just feels so good. 

Eventually they break apart, but there is no awkwardness between them despite the blushing, and Carol reaches up to brush her fingers lightly over Florence's cheek, catching her just there with the way the sunlight is tracing every feaure of her face. Carol wants to take all of it in, to memorise how she looks in this moment. Florence is blushing but her gaze is unwavering, blue-grey eyes warm, like the sky before a storm, and Carol smiles as Florence's hand comes up to press hers close, catching it to her cheek. 

"...I love you."

She doesn't mean to say it, it's too much, too soon, everything is so... heightened and messy and the timing is all wrong, but it's an inescapable truth all the same. There's a beat, and Carol goes to move away, to break the contact, because she has to give Florence the freedom to recoil from that. It's hard to move though, because Florence still has not released her hand, is still holding it close... and as Carol watches, lips parted, heart in her throat, Florence turns her head just enough to press the lightest kiss to the inside of Carol's wrist, and Carol can feel her pulse leap and the blood rush to her cheeks. 

"...Thank you. I cannot say those words, not yet, but in time... I have no doubt that I will again? I... care very deeply for you. And I will do my best to support you through this. Through everything, if you wish it."

"...I do."

Florence's smile is real and bright and fragile and it lights up her whole face, those beautiful eyes crinkling at the edges with the sincerity of it as she presses another kiss, this time to Carol's palm. 

"...Alright. Perhaps it's time we made that phone call."

Carol sighs, already feeling colder somehow as she shifts away from Florence to reach for the phone, even though the other woman is right there. It's the loss of the contact that aches the most. 

"...You're right. Perhaps it is."

"It will be okay. I don't yet know how, but somehow, I know that it will be okay."


	24. Chapter 24

The phonecall itself went relatively well. As much as she hates playing into the stereotype, claiming brief hysteria has its uses at times, and besides, it could potentially bolster their case, at least according to her lawyer. She almost hoped that he knew her well enough not to buy into the idea that women were inherently weaker and prone to such things, but socialisation was a powerful thing. There were times when it was to her advantage. There was certainly a convincing argument to be made that the level of persecution Harge had subjected to would be enough to cause a break in anyone. 

At the end of it, Carol still slumped against Florence's side, closing her eyes as Florence took the receiver from her to set back in the cradle, and just breathing. She can feel Florence's arm slide around her waist, feel the way it's so natural to follow that suggestion and tuck her head in under Florence's jaw, nose against the soft skin of her throat. She takes another breath. 

"...What perfume is that? It's nice."

"Hmm?"

"Your perfume..."

"Oh... Harge bought me a bottle years ago, before we were married. I've been wearing it ever since. What about yours?"

"I'm not wearing any perfume..."

"That's possibly a little unfair, darling..."

Florence laughed, pressing an easy kiss to Carol's forehead, hand stroking gently up and down her back. The pet name slipped easily from her lips, and Carol feels a little thrill at the way Florence doesn't object. This is so warm and intimate she could drown in it, and oh, it's tempting. 

"Mmm... how long have you been doing magic?"

"Oh, years and years... I started young, most don't. Lewis is very unusual. It's more commonly understood that anyone can learn, but generally... that is restricted to adults, if only by dint of the amount of work involved. Lewis has a natural aptitude, certainly, but it's his drive, his passion, his work ethic that make him a warlock. And he is a warlock, not an apprentice, not anymore."

"Oh?" Carol shifted back a little, reluctantly, just enough to meet Florence's eyes. "How does one... become a fully fledged witch, or warlock?"

Florence's smile is a little fragile, it doesn't quite reach those deep blue eyes, and impulsively Carol brushes her fingertips lightly over Florence's cheek. 

"...You have to defeat an evil spirit by using your own magic."

"...And Lewis has done that?"

"We couldn't have done it without him."

"Done what?"

"Last year... well, we saved the world, I suppose. It's perhaps a long story?"

"...I'd love to hear it, if you're willing to tell me more?"

Florence hesitated, then squeezed her hand. 

"...Perhaps over dinner? The story might suffer for my telling, I'm certain Jonathan and Lewis would be much better at telling it. But I promise, you will hear all about it."

Carol nodded, squeezing Florence's hand in return. 

"...Alright. Thank you, I look forward to that a great deal."

"Oh it's hardly as exciting as all that..."

"You know, Florence Zimmermann, somehow I don't believe you."

That was enough to provoke another laugh from her, but as Florence leaned in to kiss Carol once more, there was the inevitable knock at the door. She sighed, and pulled away reluctantly. 

"In fact, here are our dinner guests now, I'm sure. Perhaps I should begin making some food..."

Carol stood, smoothing her skirt. 

"...Please allow me to help?"

Florence shot her a grateful smile. 

"Thank you, I would appreciate that a lot. Could you answer the door, perhaps? I'll investigate the ice box, see what I can dig out."

Carol nodded and turned to answer the door, smiling to find Jonathan, Abby, and Lewis all waiting outside. 

"Well hello, come in, are you all ready for dinner?"

"I'll say we are!"

Carol laughed at Jonathan's enthusiasm, and leaned down to accept Lewis' embrace gratefully. 

"Hello again Lewis, how nice to see you. I hope you're well. How are things?"

"Things are going very well thank you Mrs Aird, that thesaurus has been invaluable!"

"I'm very glad to hear it. How's school?"

"It's good thank you, I have a friend now, Rose Rita, she's lovely."

"I'm sure she is... Florence is just preparing dinner, shall we go see if we can give her a hand?"

"I'll lay the table!"

"What a nice young man you are."

Lewis beamed and headed through, while Carol turned her attention to Abby. 

"How was the house?"

"Amazing. You never told me anything about it. I had no idea."

"In her defence, we were doing our best to hide the whole magic thing last time she was here," Jonathan explained, and Abby laughed even as she elbowed Carol playfully in the ribs. 

"Well, now we've both had our eyes opened maybe you should go over and have a look too."

"Perhaps tomorrow?"

"You're welcome any time."

Carol smiled. 

"Thank you Jonathan... I appreciate that a great deal."

"Now let us in, dope, I'm starved. It's been a long time since lunch. Oh, how did your telephone call go?"

"Tentative, but promising. I suppose we'll see. At least he hasn't fired me as a client after that."

"I'll credit him with that much sense. What are we having?"

"I'm not sure yet. Florence said she was going to look in the icebox."

"How does ham sound?" Came a call from the kitchen, and Carol blinked as she glanced back. 

"...But we don't have time, do we?"

Abby laughed, shaking her head as she tapped her old friend playfully on the shoulder. 

"...Magic, remember?"

Carol blushed, suddenly feeling a little foolish. 

"...Yes, of course. How could I forget?"

"Good question. C'mon, let's eat, then we can talk more about it. You were right, by the way, Lewis is charming."

"Isn't he a nice boy?"

"Absolutely lovely."

Carol followed Abby and Jonathan through to the kitchen, eager to offer any help she could to Florence, but the dinner preparations were well in hand, with pans of potatoes and beans bubbling away on the stove and a perfect pink ham in the oven. 

Jonathan winked at her. 

"...Have you figured it out yet?"

"What?" Carol asked, a little uncertain, but unable not to smile in response to such good natured teasing. 

"What the thesaurus and all the dictionaries are for?"

"...Magic?" She breathed, after a moment, and she was rewarded with a smile. 

"Yup. That's Lewis' magic. Everyone's is different, everyone has their own style, but Lewis' passion for words is very powerful indeed, and it's fascinating to watch. Even if he is a little weird."

"I can hear you, you know." Carol laughed as they both turned to see Lewis watching them, hands on his hips and goggles on his head. "Besides, it's not like you can talk Uncle Jonathan. Not with that saxophone anyway."

Abby and Carol both turned wide eyes on the man as he stood, frozen in place. 

"...Saxophone?"

"Now this I have to see. Or rather, hear."

"No you don't," Florence cut in from by the stove, shaking her head, "You really don't."

"...Not everybody can appreciate the intricacies of a free form jazz improvisation, it's true."

"Oh, give it a rest mush brush, and make yourself useful. I think we could all do with a drink."

"Of course. What may I get you ladies?"

"...Two martinis, please?"

"Martinis coming up. Florence?"

"White wine."

"Of course, ice queen. Lewis?"

"Uncle Jonathan can I have a milkshake?"

"Yes you can. Alright, that's the drink orders. Florence, how's the food looking?"

Florence wiped her hands on a tea towel by the stove and nodded, looking up, suddenly wearing an apron Carol was certain hadn't been there when they had been talking before. 

"...Five minutes?"

"Excellent. I'm sure this will be a meal to remember."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might be interested, when I first had this idea I actually wrote five different openings to this story of ways they might encounter each other. What I actually used here was an amalgam of four of them (because I asked five people what their favourite opening was and got five different answers, inevitably), but the fifth one didn't fit. Win7Wil once left a comment here saying they thought Florence and Carol had had their brief encounter. Well, in this, they haven't, but I decided to go back to that fifth opening which I had always intended to turn into something, and make it that brief encounter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732577


	25. Chapter 25

Dinner itself went surprisingly well, and Florence gifted Lewis with a special smile when he hopped up to help her clear the table without asking. Carol joined her at the sink, resting one hand lightly on the small of her back, and without even thinking about it Florence angled her body into Carol, not quite melting into her but not quite able to keep herself away either. Just that tiny point of contact sent her nerves tingling, and she wanted more, wanted everything... it was foreign and heady and almost overwhelming to realise she wanted so much, but the realisation that she could have it made it so much harder to resist. 

Carol smiled at her, small and secret, but warm and full of promise as she took the dishes from Florence to dry. 

Abby and Jonathan were left at the table, and Abby lit a cigarette and inhaled as she asked:

"So, what was that about a saxophone?"

"Uncle Jonathan, you know that thing you did the night I tried my first spell? Could you maybe do that again?"

Abby and Carol both turned to look at Jonathan, and even Florence glanced back over her shoulder. She was the one Jonathan looked to for permission, and as she set her washing up gloves down in the sink, she smiled. 

"Why not? It was rather fun... but perhaps it's better outside? There's no more Mrs Hanchitt to complain about your playing anymore. Though I have to say I sympathised with her a little bit."

"Yeah you made that perfectly clear... how about I meet you in the garden?"

"My garden or your garden?"

"My garden."

"Alright. You all go ahead, I'll just finish a few things up and I'll be right there."

Abby stood and offered Lewis her hand, following him. The two of them paused in the doorway to glance back at Carol.

"You two go ahead. I'll be there in a moment."

"Alright."

The others left, and Carol and Florence were alone together again.

Carol kissed Florence gently on the cheek, noticing for the first time the way they were both still standing in each other's space as if it felt so natural. 

"...Thank you for all of this, again. You didn't have to make Abby so welcome. You didn't have to trust us with your secret. You didn't... even have to open the door to me again."

"I told you you were always welcome. I meant that. I didn't... know whether you would ever come this way again, but I... hoped. And I did my best."

"For me and for Rindy. I had no idea. Are they really so powerful? The earrings?"

"I... was a little out of practice and perhaps the strength of my feeling... permeated them more than I intended. Jonathan thinks that, magically-speaking, they could probably be seen from space, but... yes."

"Thank you. I would never have known, and I don't think I will ever truly be able to thank you for what you did, for me and for Rindy, without... expecting anything in return."

Florence smiled, a little shy, a little fragile. 

"...I was glad to do it. I thought of you often. I missed you. I didn't think I would after so long living alone. It was so much easier to keep my world... small. But even after only a week, I missed you. Did you... ever think about me?"

"All the time. Every day. I don't think that's an exaggeration really. I... not constantly, but at least once or twice every day. My housekeeper, at the place in Jersey, her name is Florence too. Every time I spoke to her I thought of you and it ached in my chest a little because I wanted... to see you again. I wanted... well, I wanted what we have now."

Florence could feel the heat on her cheeks as she smiled shyly, blushing, and Carol laughed softly, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. 

"Come on, let's go and see what Jonathan has for us, shall we?"

"Yes. It's... a good trick, I have to say. I think you'll appreciate it."

Florence pushed away from the sink, hanging the tea towel to dry as she headed for the door. Carol followed her, and as they both pulled on their coats she asked, aiming for an almost casual tone,

"So... everyone has something they have a natural affinity for, magically speaking?"

"Yes. There is a lot that is just... general spellwork or principles. Ninety nine percent is book learning, but the last one percent is... where the magic happens, as it were? The last one percent is what makes your magic unique."

"Lewis is words?"

"Lewis is words. Jonathan's is often his saxophone. Mine... well, my amulets, I suppose, the charms I can make."

"Do you have any sense of what I might perhaps have an affinity for? Or Abby?"

"Honestly it's too early to tell, but I'd be happy to help you explore it? There is a lot of learning to be done and with everything else going on, with your daughter and your husband... perhaps it should wait? But I promise that if you want to learn I will do my best to teach you."

Carol smiled, glancing at Florence from under her lashes. 

"I'm sure you're an excellent teacher..."

Florence blushed but laughed, tucking her umbrella under her arm. 

"I suppose that remains to be seen... come on."

It was only a short walk to Jonathan's garden, and by the time they arrived he was back in his kimono and fez. Carol hid a smile as Florence openly rolled her eyes, affection on her face all the same. 

"Nice of you ladies to join us for my little parlour trick."

Florence rolled her eyes while Lewis laughed. 

"Come now Jonathan, you're far more than just a parlour magician, isn't that what Lewis said the first time you did this trick for him?"

"I am at least a fully-fledged warlock now."

Abby perked up.

"Oh yes, didn't you say you would tell us that story over dinner?"

"Yeah I think we did. Now, or...?"

Florence shifted uncertainly, sharing a glance with Jonathan. 

"Perhaps after Jonathan's magic?"

"That sounds wonderful. I do look forward to the story, and the magic. And Lewis was involved too, I hear?"

Florence and Jonathan both smiled. 

"Yes. Lewis was the real hero of the story."

"So... I mean, I'm relatively confident in this, but I do have to ask, you're all... magic, are you... good?"

Jonathan chuckled a little, and Lewis laughed while Florence hesitated. Jonathan nodded at her and then answered. 

"Depends what you mean by good. I'm nice, but I'm not very good. Florence here is nice /and/ good. She's probably the strongest witch in the world, even with a few years off and being a little out of practice."

"Oh come now Jonathan, you're not as bad as all that."

"I'm not, my magic's not nothing, but compared to you I'm nothing special. Lewis is only young, but he's shaping up to have a lot of potential."

"Thanks Uncle Jonathan."

"You're welcome Lewis. It's just the truth. Now. Who wants to see some magic?"

The rest of the party put their hands up, and Florence shook her head but smiled as she joined them. Jonathan grinned and put his lips to the reed, sending the rough, almost-melody out into the night as around them the dogs began to howl and Abby laughed. 

He played on for a few minutes and then lowered his saxophone, grinning as Lewis led Abby and Carol over to the birdbath, showing them how to touch the water and conjure up planets and galaxies to dance around them, nebulae in sparkling clouds in the air. 

Abby stared, eyes wide as she stepped hesitantly through the garden, turning this way and that in an attempt to take it all in while Carol followed behind her, the two of them confronted for the first time with the real wonder of the world opening before them. 

Florence and Jonathan allowed them to wander in silence, taking their time, knowing that it was so much to be confronted with when they had only just been introduced to the idea that magic existed. 

The silence stretched on and on until Carol turned to Florence, eyes wide and shining with childish joy as she caught a star and spun it in her hand. A ball of nebula splattered against her back, covering her in stardust, and she laughed out loud as she turned to throw the star at Abby in return. Lewis joined in with a yell, and Jonathan was quick to follow suit. Even Florence joined in as the five of them pelted each other with galactic matter until they were panting for breath and glowing with energy and joy. 

They returned to the little table in Jonathan's garden, and with a flick of her wrist Florence conjured up five mugs of cocoa, topped with whipped cream. All of them took grateful draughts, and as Abby licked the cream moustache from her upper lip, her gaze shifted between Florence and Jonathan. 

"So... what happened with this bad guy last year then?" 

Florence and Jonathan exchanged a look, and he nodded to let her take the lead. 

"It's quite a long story... but if you want to hear it?"

"Absolutely."

"Where should I begin..."


	26. Chapter 26

"Jonathan's house used to be owned by another warlock called Isaac Izard. He and Jonathan were friends. Isaac was an orphan, and Jonathan had run away from his family, so they had a reasonable amount in common and they formed a double act," Florence's eyes slid to Jonathan and she smiled a little, "Surprisingly, they were actually rather good illusionists and they were quite popular. When the war broke out, Isaac went to serve and ended up in Germany. We've found out a little more since then than we knew at the time. His unit was killed and he was lost in the Black Forest, the Schwarzwald which is a very old place with very old magic. While he was there his pain and hatred and fear, and his power, resulted in him summoning a demon by the sheer force of his determination to end the war."

"A demon?!"

Florece nodded solemnly, a sad, resigned little smile resting on her lips as she took a sip of her water and glanced at Abby.

"Yes. A demon. Azazel to be precise, the fourth prince of hell. They sealed a pact to end war by ending humanity itself, and Azazel gave Isaac a plan. Isaac returned from the war and turned his back on Jonathan, instead he found a spiteful, mean witch called Selina with a talent for disguises, and he married her. Two years ago, one night with a fierce thunderstorm, Isaac carried out a blood magic ritual which killed him, to make a clock key of human bone. At the time Jonathan and I thought it was Selina's, that he had killed her to make it, but last year we discovered that was not the case and she was still alive. He built a clock, tuned to the phases of the moon, with the intention of winding time back to the very beginning so that people would grow younger and younger and then eventually just... disappear, leaving only him and Selina, with a determination to make sure that the human race never existed again."

Carol nodded a little, slowly, as some of the pieces seemed to drop into place. 

"All the clocks at Jonathan's house?"

"An attempt to cover up the ticking in the walls," Jonathan answered with a rueful smile, "Not a particularly effective one, I admit. Living with that constant shadow hanging over you, like the sword of Damocles though... it's enough to drive anyone mad even without the incessant noise."

"That makes sense..." Carol's eyes shifted to Florence, and she gently reached to squeeze the woman's hand, smiling a little, "...The thunderstorm?"

Florence's answering smile was soft as she nodded, returning that little squeeze. 

"...I was lost in unpleasant memories."

"You seem to have more than your fair share of those to draw on."

"Perhaps."

"So what happened last year?" Abby asked eagerly, and Lewis grinned at her. 

"Well, things changed when Lewis arrived because the clock was still counting down. Occasionally we would hear it chime, knowing that it was counting down but not what it would lead to. With Lewis here we redoubled our efforts to find it. We didn't know where it was or what it would do, but Jonathan managed to find a secret passage to their old laboratory. We found some plans there, and neither he nor I could make heads nor tails of them, but Lewis could decode them. Unfortunately in some ways... well, we should have told him more than we did. Lewis unintentionally brought Isaac Izard back from the dead. Selina manipulated him. She did indeed have a talent for disguises. With Isaac returned... he and Selina took Lewis from us, and we fought to get him back-"

"That was what brought your magic back, wasn't it Florence."

The purple witch ducked her head a little, a light flush appearing on her cheeks before she smiled warmly at Lewis, not trusting herself to directly respond to Jonathan's remark. 

"...Yes. That was enough for me to... the need was enough. Before that I couldn't... it was broken. I hadn't thought it would ever be fixed, and that made it all... worse. Isaac revealed his plans to us, thinking he would be able to kill us and carry on, but-"

"But he wasn't banking on the most powerful witch of our age suddenly getting her mojo back!"

"Yes, thank you Jonathan. We managed to catch him and Selina off guard and rescue Lewis. There was some... unpleasantness on the way out, but we regrouped here. One of the most important pieces of information they had given us was that the clock was hidden under a witch's hex, meaning that no witch or warlock would be able to find it. Lewis correctly surmised that as he was only in training and therefore not a witch or warlock yet, he might be able to use his magic to overcome that. Thanks to him, we did. He and Jonathan faced down Isaac and Selina, and in the end the clock was destroyed, and time returned to normal."

"...What happened to you?" Abby asked, taking a sip of her own drink as she watched Carol, carefully non-accusatory, but curious all the same. 

"I was... waylaid."

"One of the spells that Florence tried when her magic wasn't working so well was trying to turn her pet garter snake purple. It worked, but it also turned him into more or less a tentacle monster. He lived in a spare room at my house and Isaac must have let him out. We were going down the ladder first, and Florence got snatched. Besides, that version of events is... really very charitable to me. Lewis is the one who stopped the clock. I just... peed my pants. Literally."

Abby snorted with laughter, but she grinned at Jonathan all the same, and Carol chuckled quietly. 

Florence looked around the table, noting the way Lewis' eyes were already drooping and she smiled fondly and clapped. 

"...Well, alright, as wonderful as this evening has been, perhaps we should call it a night? It's been a very long day for everyone, and it's getting late. It's certainly time for Lewis to be in bed, and Abby you must be exhausted after last night. Would anyone like a nightcap?"

"No thank you, I think you're right. I think it's time we went to bed. Thank you for sharing that story with us, it was really... well. It was very interesting."

Florence inclined her head at Abby, then stood, beginning to clear what was left of the plates. 

Jonathan picked Lewis up gently and waved at the ladies before he carried the boy back towards their own house. 

Abby and Carol both helped to clear things, and Abby paused as she passed to look Florence in the eye. 

"...Thank you for sharing that story with us. I know I said that already, but I mean it. I'm still not completely sold on this whole magic thing, though I admit the evidence is piling up in favour. But that can't have been easy for you, and so I guess... well, thank you for saving all our lives?"

Florence nodded. 

"...I understand. And you're welcome. Thank you for being so... big about all of this."

"I love Carol. That's not going to change. I want the best for her and I want her happy. Right now you seem to give her that, and I don't think Harge ever did. So I'm willing to give you a chance because of that. And the more I get to know you, honestly, the more I like you. Don't screw this up though."

"I won't."

"Do you still have the snake?"

Florence smiled, feeling some of the tension bleed out of the room again. 

"Yes, I do. He does a timeshare between here and Jonathan's place now because he and Lewis are very fond of each other. He's called William Snakespeare. Perhaps tomorrow I can introduce you?"

Abby grinned. 

"I'd like that very much. Snakes are great."

"This is true. He is particularly wonderful, even by snake standards."

"Thank you! I look forward to it. Goodnight, both of you."

"Goodnight Abby."

Florence was surprised as she felt warm hands on her lower back, sliding gently around her waist, and she allowed herself to lean back into Carol's embrace as the other woman came up behind her and gently kissed her on the cheek. 

"...Shall we go to bed?"

"...I think so. Are you sure that sharing-"

"I'm sure. I like it. Don't worry, I don't have any nefarious intentions on you."

"Would they be nefarious at this point?"

Carol smiled wistfully as Florence shifted away, reclaiming her balance but staying close. 

"...They would be if it wasn't something you were entirely certain you wanted."

Florene hesitated, swallowing, that light flush back on her cheeks as she dropped her eyes then looked back up at Carol again from under her lashes. 

"I'm... not certain of that yet."

"I know. It's alright. Come on, I'm tired, and I sleep better with you there?"

Florence smiled and took Carol's hand, leading her up to the room they were now sharing once more. 

"Well... I suppose that makes two of us..."

Carol smiled, removing her earrings and beginning the process of getting ready for bed. 

"...Blood magic? Is that... as evil as it sounds?"

Florence hesitated, and reached out to rest her fingertips just briefly on the pale line of Carol's spine. 

"...Not always, but it's complicated. Perhaps that's something better left till morning."

"Probably. I just... want to know everything."

"I know love, and I promise, I will teach you all I can."


	27. Chapter 27

Given how new all of this was, Florence was a little surprised by how easy it seemed to exist with Carol in her space. She could hear rain pattering on the windows, yet another April shower, and it was soothing as she unbuttoned her dress and carefully hung it up, glancing to the other side of the room where Carol was doing the same. Her bra was peach satin and soft, and Florence couldn't help but gaze at the contrast it made against her skin. Nothing she owned was so fine. Carol let out a sigh of relief as she finally unzipped her girdle. 

"...Oh but that's so much better."

She glanced up and over at Florence with a mischevious smile. 

"...Do you need any help over there?"

Florence felt herself blush a little, and shook her head as she eased off her slip. 

"No, thank you for the offer... I'm just enjoying the view?"

It felt foreign to tease like that, like she was still unsure of her footing somehow, but Carol's answering smile was brilliant, and incentive enough really. 

It was a relief to remove her own girdle and reach for her nightdress, soft and familiar in her signature purple. She removed her earrings next, and caught Carol's eyes in the mirror, gazing at her with a soft smile on her face. 

"...What?"

"...Nothing. Perhaps it's forward of me."

"Is there really anything between us now that might be considered forward?"

That won her a chuckle as Carol set her earrings aside on the bedside table. 

"...Probably not, no. I was just thinking how much it suits you. The purple, I mean, and how much I... admire your choice in colour, and... well... it's something I rather love about you, to be honest."

Florence smiled into the mirror as she reached back to remove the pins from her hair, letting it tumble around her shoulders in a curtain of silver and ash, overlaying the brown which still remained in places. 

Carol's eyes never left hers, and that was enough to make her breath catch a little in her throat. It had been so long since anyone had last looked at her like that, and she had never imagined that it would happen again, still less that it might have been a woman. She doesn't mind, though, not really, but it is at once both familiar and not in a way that makes her stomach flutter. 

Carol folded back the blankets and then excused herself to remove her makeup in the bathroom, glad that Abby had also thought to bring her cold cream. When she returned she was wearing a nightgown too, also in a soft peach, and Florence couldn't help but notice the way it brought out the warm undertones in her skin, the way it suited her so well. 

"...Well, it's a little more deliberate this time, but shall we?"

Carol chuckled and motioned to the bed, demurring, "After you..."

Florence smiled, crossing over to stand by the bed, hesitating. 

"...Perhaps together?"

Carol's smile was warm as she nodded. 

"Together."

They climbed in together, and it was relatively without incident as they each tried to find their space without crowding the other, or crossing lines they weren't yet sure of. 

Florence was almost but not quite surprised when she found that it seemed so natural to come to rest with her arm pillowing Carol's head, and Carol's tucked over her waist. She blushed a little to find herself so close, but made no effort to move away as Carol gazed at her with eyes so deep she could almost drown in them. 

"...I know I have already said it, but perhaps you might forgive me for repeating myself... thank you. I'm afraid... the words don't really do any part of this situation justice. But thank you, for taking me in again, for trusting me, for trusting Abby, for sharing all of this with us... I can't really begin to imagine what you have been through, the path that brought you here... and no doubt it is terribly selfish of me, but there is a part of me that is glad that it brought you here to me."

Florence nodded, pausing a moment to gather her words before she replied, shifting to ensure she could gaze into Carol's eyes in an attempt to communicate her sincerity. 

"...I know that when you say that you do not mean that you are glad of the pain, but that if there had been, perhaps, another way we could have met... you would have welcomed it. There is a lot to recommend being grateful for the present. And I am, for the most part. I am. I have learned to take the joy where it may be found, in the smallest of things, because there is nothing truly more fragile than happiness. So I am glad of our paths and that they have met here, though if I could undo what had been done to me... but I know there is no way. Likewise if your path had not involved such agony and betrayal, it would be preferable, we both understand that. But things that have come to pass cannot be so easily changed, the fabric of the universe is woven and undoing things is not as simple as unpicking wrong stitches because it unravels the entire tapestry. 

Carol sighed, tucking her head closer into Florence's shoulder, nuzzling against her cheek for a moment and brushing a soft kiss next to her ear that makes Florence's heart skip against her ribs. 

"...You're right, of course. You're right. Thank you for this, too. For being willing to share your bed with me and allow me to... for holding me. I... needed it. I need it. If you are willing."

"I am. You are... not the only one for whom it is a comfort. I suppose tonight we shall face a slightly different challenge. Last night you were too exhausted for bad dreams, and I was too focused on you. Tonight may be different, and I hope that you will forgive me. Some nights I remain unplagued, but on others... there are horrors in my mind which are indescribable, and on others they get the better of me."

Carol nodded, reaching to gently stroke a lock of Florence's hair back behind her ear, meeting her eyes unflinchingly. 

"...I will be here, no matter what. And besides, it would hardly be the first nightmare that we have shared. Your kindness in rescuing me from those was a light to me in the darkness of the winter. For all that they have now come to pass, for some reason I find that I dream about it less now. Perhaps it is the difference of it becoming reality. But we might comfort each other, I hope, if it is necessary?"

Florence's answering smile was soft, and she leaned in to press the lightest of kisses to Carol's lips. 

"...I hope so too."

~

When Carol woke in the morning it was slowly and then all at once. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes, cataloguing sensation... and pausing at the sight of that beautiful head on the pillow next to her, gilded with sunlight. She felt... well-rested, surprisingly, her body felt heavy and slow with sleep, but she was satisfied rather than exhausted. The ache in her muscles was that ache which followed the body discovering what it felt to be truly relaxed... but the stickiness on her thighs was nothing so pleasant, and she felt her cheeks flush, realising that she might have unintentionally stained Florence's sheets. 

There was nothing that could be done about it, of course, and Florence would know, would understand that the way Harge had never been able to because such things weren't talked about, even with your husband, but Carol still felt guilty because laundry was no easy task and now she was responsible for causing a load... perhaps she could at least offer to take care of it herself, if Florence might instruct her on how to use the machine. 

The dread only intensified as she realised that in her hurry she had forgotten to pack anything at all, and Abby, as thorough as she had been, had neglected to pack her sanitary belt. Oh, of all the... so early in their relationship and she would have to be so personal. She almost felt as if she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Perhaps there was a spell or something she could use in situations like this in the future, but for now... well, something like that would inevitably take time to learn, and she shifted uncomfortably, trying to gauge how severe the problem might be as her cheeks burned with the shame of it.

Florence opened her eyes, hazy and soft and deep as a midnight sky and for a moment Carol forgot how to breathe as she smiled. 

"...Good morning."

"Good moring to you too. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you. Did you? I hope I didn't keep you awake..."

"Oh no, not at all. I... have not had a bedmate in a longtime, you are probably far more practised than me at keeping the more obnoxious of behaviours under control."

Carol laughed.

"Don't worry, you didn't snore. The worst you did was cuddle up around me a little tighter, and if I'm honest I can't bring myself to mind that too much."

That won her a wicked smile. 

"Well, I'm glad to hear that at least... is something wrong?"

Carol shifted again, taken off-guard by how perceptive Florence was being yet again. It had been easier to hide things from Harge. He never paid that much attention to her unless he wanted something, and what he did note he did not remember. 

"...I'm... afraid I have a rather intimate favour to ask of you... I am so terribly sorry, but... well... might you... perhaps have a spare sanitary belt?"

Florence shifted, frowning a little in concern and Carol braced herself for rejection. 

"...I believe so. I'll go and check. Does it hurt?"

"A little, but I'll be fine."

"I'll make some ginger tea later. It... I always find it very helpful."

"Thank you. And I really am sorry if I have bled on your sheets. It's hardly... well, I suppose it's not our first night together, but our second night together, the first where we were both of sound mind enough to be aware of it, and-"

"It can't be helped."

Florence cut her off, gazing into Carol's eyes with her chin raised just a little. 

"It can't be helped. It's an unavoidable part of womanhood. It cannot be helped and I have no interest in shaming you for it. I know it cannot be controlled. There are some men, I think, who if they think about it at all assume women can hold it as if it were any other bodily function, as if it were as simple as the need to relieve oneself."

She leaned in, resting her fingertips ever-so-lightly on Carol's cheek as she pressed a soft kiss to her lips like the touch of a butterfly's wing. 

"...I'll see what I can find. I won't be long. Try not to worry too much."

"...Thank you."

Florence's smile widened as she rose from the bed, wrapping her robe around herself before she opened the door to check the bathroom. 

"Besides, I suppose it's an appropriate backdrop for our conversation on blood magic, if you are still curious."

That made Carol laugh a little, despite herself, and she nodded, smiling, eyes bright. 

"...Yes. I am."

She tucked her legs up underneath herself, still strangely self-conscious, feeling oddly vulnerable as she drew the sheets up higher. It was only a few minutes before Florence returned with several pads and the familiar elastic contraption which would help preserve her dignity. She handed them over with a warm smile, and when Carol couldn't meet her eyes, Florence gently cupped her cheek, tilting her head up. Her thumb skimmed over Carol's cheekbone, and Carol's hand came up to gently catch her wrist, to hold it, to prolong that contact. 

"...I'm sorry."

She could feel tears bubbling up inside her again, despairing at her own irrationality. It only served to magnify the events of the past few days, to make her more acutely aware of all of her failures. 

Florence's arms came around her again, and Carol leaned into her, melted into her, into the way they fit together, the warmth and comfort and softness that welcomed her as the tears boiled over for a few minutes until they dried and she swiped at her cheek, taking a deep breath to recompose herself. 

"You have nothing to apologise for. Some things are beyond our control. There's no harm done, and perhaps... well, there are things I can do for you, things I can teach you which will make it easier."

Carol watched her for a moment, lost in the calm serenity of her face, like the moon floating over a calm sea, and when Florence smiled it felt like sunrise.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read chapter notes and warnings before reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has warnings for discussion of: historical references, the Holocaust, human experimentation, forced sterilisation, and canonical child death. All of this content is beneath the ~~~ break in the chapter. Please read with care.

Breakfast was a slightly busier affair. It was strange how the addition of one extra person changed the dynamic so much. The cooking and the clean up weren't really more taxing, and with an additional set of hands the clean up was faster if anything, but where their breakfast the day before had been an exercise in dancing around each other and trying to learn all the ways they fit together in suddenly shared space. It wasn't that they knew any better now, but having Abby there made it simultaneously easier and more difficult all at once. 

Florence made the coffee and Carol hesitated to pour it, while Abby sat at the table wrapped in her dressing gown, legs crossed, cigarette between her fingers, eyes dancing as she watched. 

The silence stretched on and eventually Florence glanced back over her shoulder, looking a little confused. 

"...Is everything alright? Is the coffee okay?"

"I'm sure it's fine, not that I've had any yet. But it smells divine."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought..." Florence trailed off and turned the heat down under the porridge she was making, "I'll pour it."

"I'm sorry, I can pour it, I just... didn't want to assume. That is to say it's your house and we're both your guests and although we're... that is to say you and I... but this isn't my home and I didn't want to presume or..." 

The words came tumbling out in a rush, tripping all over each other like a waterfall, and Florence paused, blushing a little as she stared at Carol for a moment, then shook her head with a slight smile, turning back to the hob. 

"...You can pour the coffee. I'm hardly going to take it as a proposal."

Both of the blondes elected to ignore Abby's spluttering as she failed to contain her laughter any longer, muffling it with her hand as best she could in lieu of a mug of coffee. Instead, Carol kept her head down as she filled all three mugs and fetched the milk jug from the fridge.

Carol glanced back over her shoulder at Florence. 

"...I'm sorry, I can't remember, do you take sugar?"

"Surely she's sweet enough already?"

Abby grinned as she sipped her coffee like a cat that got the cream... and then her gaze shifted critically to Florence, who was spooning fresh porridge into bowls and topping it with fruit and syrup. 

"...Hey, may I ask you something?"

Florence glanced back as she turned to set the porridge on the table. 

"What would you like to know?"

"...How come a snake? I thought witches were usually... I don't know, cats? Rats? Bats? Things like that."

"Cats are most common, I'll give you that. But not all magic users even have familiars. Jonathan doesn't, and I... well, Snakespeare is more of a friend. Snakes can be quite charming really, they're fascinating creatures. He helps keep the pests down, although I'm sure a cat would do just as well, and he can look after himself. And he doesn't leave little presents to imply that I'm an ineffective hunter. I don't dislike cats, but I think those who believe them to be all fluffy and sweet have never made a particularly close study of them. Snakes are... honest. I appreciate that about them."

Abby nodded slowly, considering as she set her mug down on the table and turned to sit properly to eat her food. 

"That makes a lot of sense. I do look forward to meeting him."

Florence smiled and took a sip of her coffee, making a satisfied noise and reaching out with her spare hand to gently squeeze Carol's wrist. 

"That's perfect, thank you. Yes, you can meet him later... I was wondering whether... well, if you really are interested, perhaps we could spend the day working on some of the foundations of magic?"

Florence glanced between the other two ladies almost shyly, hands still wrapped around her mug, knuckles almost white as if clinging to it for comfort. 

Abby grinned, bright and brilliant, and as she nodded her hair bounced with the enthusiasm of it. 

"Yes please. That'd be great. How do we usually start?"

"I'd like that, if you're sure you're up to it?"

Abby kicked Carol under the table. 

"C'mon you goof, at least try to sound enthusiastic."

Florence laughed softly, finally setting her coffee down as if she no longer needed its shield. 

"...Well, everyone has a natural affinity for a certain kind of magic, but there are basics it's good to cover from every perspective, and they can be very useful in trying to gauge where your talent might lie. To make a proper study requires a lot of books and proper dedication. If that's a path you'd like to pursue then I'd be happy to guide you as best I can. Magic... isn't really something to be trifled with though? Uncontrolled or misunderstood power can be... very dangerous."

"We understand," Abby took Carol's hand, squeezing it as they both fixed Florence with steady gazes, "We'll take it seriously."

"Alright, well, a good breakfast then. Magical endeavours are rarely successful on an empty stomach. Then we'll begin."

"Florence, you know when you did that... when you showed us our power?"

"Mmmn?" Florence glanced up at the brunette from her breakfast as Abby continued, hesitant. 

"Can you... tell what it might be for? Our affinities?"

"Mmm... no, I can't, but there are a few simple tests for some of the more common abilities. More than likely there will just be something you feel comfortable with. It doesn't have to be a form of magic or a source of power or energy, it might just be... something you are drawn to that seems mundane or every day, like Lewis' passion for words. Think about it, maybe when you have more of a sense of your power, and see if you're particularly drawn to anything."

Florence smiled and drained her cup. 

"More coffee, anyone?"

"Mmm... Please?"

Carol nudged her cup into range, and Florence topped it up carefully. 

"You mentioned blood magic, is that...? Well, when you said it about Isaac... I mean, is it normal, or...?"

"Oh yes, I said I'd explain a little more, didn't I..." Florence sighed, pushing her sleeves back up her arms a little way and considering her next words before she spoke, "Blood magic is... not inherently evil, but it is very powerful. /Very/ powerful. It's some of the oldest magic in existence, everyone has always naturally understood that blood is a very powerful thing. It holds essence, life, identity... you can use it to bind, to break, to seal... to do any number of things. The power it entails means that... often it is more used for purposes which if not necessarily evil... require a strength beyond that which is normal? Different kinds of blood can be used in different ways, they carry different energies. Blood from a wound or taken forcibly will have anger to it, that is most commonly used in dark spells. Blood from passion... well, there are those who might not consider love spells to be inherently evil but if it is generally understood that all parties should choose freely, blood magic in a love spell is more akin to servitude. It robs the will. Women's blood... there are different schools of thought on. Perhaps it is a positive thing, perhaps it is a negative thing, perhaps it is a sign of fertility, or barrenness. Intent and belief is important, and although the devil is in the details if you /believe/ that blood to have a positive connotation and use it in positive ways then you will see positive things. If you believe the opposite, then that will affect the things you choose to use it for and the results you see. Blood magic isn't evil, just as strength or power aren't evil, but they are so often misused."

The other two sat in silence for a moment, before Abby broke it, eyes wide. 

"...Wow..."

Florence laughed a little, a light pink flush on her cheeks as she glanced between them, through her lashes. 

"...Does that answer your questions?"

Carol nodded, watching her, and her voice was quiet as she affirmed, "Yes."

Another beat of silence, and then Florence stood, reaching for Abby's bowl and cup. 

"Well... perhaps if that is it for now, I should clear up so that we might make a start?"

Abby and Carol were also on their feet in an instant, eager to help, as much not to impose on their host as to get to the actual meat of the day. The prospect of learning some magic was tantalising indeed.

~~~

Carol rolled her shoulders and groaned a little as she unzipped her girdle and stepped out of it. She sighed as she ran a finger under the elastic of the sanitary belt and winced at the red mark beneath. Fortunately it had done its job though. 

She glanced up as Florence walked into the room and closed the door, turning her back as she removed her robe and hung it on the hook. 

"Thank you for the lessons today. They really were fascinating. And...thank you again for the belt. I really do appreciate it. Foolishly I suppose I hadn't thought to bring one, or to ask Abby to. Is it a new one? The elastic seems..."

"Hmm?"

Florence glanced over and there was a flash of a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes, one with a knife edge of pain under the surface as if it was a defensive mechanism that meant nothing sincere. 

"Oh. Yes. It was part of the package of things I was given when I moved here. I've never used it."

Carol nodded, watching her carefully. 

"I suppose magic provides more comfortable alternatives."

"...It used to, yes. These days I don't need anything at all of course."

Carol tilted her head, still watching, waiting, holding her breath at the feeling that whatever Florence was about to say would be something vitally important, and somehow also terrible to hear. 

Florence paused, flexing her fingers absently with her knuckles bone-white, gazing into the distance before she squared her shoulders and set her jaw. Carol's heart ached a little because she was coming to recognise those signs in her lover, the obvious, defiant marks of a courage forged in necessity, and in the face of things nobody should have had to deal with. 

"...In the camps, when we arrived there were a few people waiting for us. Not to welcome us, but to assess us. A doctor, and a warlock. People were sent on a whim to the left or to the right, a question of whether death would be immediate or delayed, though I don't think we truly understood that then. I was taken aside, my daughter was sent with my husband. I begged for her to stay with me, and they acquiesced. I thought it was a kindness at the time. He was sent towards the chimneys, belching out black smoke into the sky with ash settling down like rain. She stayed with me. She was young, too young, really, but she... they had a program of the magic users they had captured, she was a useful pawn to ensure my cooperation. But I was still a Jew. A Jewess witch who had once been the most powerful in Europe? That couldn't be allowed. I was still useful, but they couldn't risk... more of me. So among the other experiments, they sterilised me. I was not the only one."

Carol stared at her, ashen faced, struggling to find words, frozen in horror as Florence offered a little shrug, every inch of her set still like a statue, refusing to concede even a little bit in the face of this truth. 

"And... your daughter?"

"She died. In front of me. Slowly. Typhus. Disease was everywhere. There was nothing I could do to save her."

"I'm... sorry. That doesn't... even begin to express..."

Florence shrugged again, the movement tiny, tightly restrained. 

"No. There are no words for something like this. There should never have to be words for something like this. We weren't people. To them, we weren't people."

Carol stepped towards her, swaying unsteadily on her feet as the movement itself caught her off balance, but she approached all the same, suddenly tentative as she reached for Florence. 

The smile on her lips was small and bitter, but there was almost a kindness to it as she tilted her head. 

"...I won't break if you touch me."

Hesitantly, Carol reached out to brush her fingers over Florence's stomach through the fabric of her nightdress, glancing up almost fearfully to meet those captivating blue eyes. 

"...I didn't know. I didn't... see a scar?"

"There were some. I keep them hidden. One of the few things my powers would permit, even when I lost them. It's hardly a reminder I wanted to have confronting me for the rest of my life, reminding me of all the things they took from me, all the parts of me that were broken."

She hesitated, glancing away, and then back, a challenge in her eyes still, as if all of this was a fight, a battle to be won, and Carol's heart ached because she had never intended to cause this much pain, not at all. 

"And so if that changes your opinion of me, I understand. But I would rather you were honest about it. There is a limit to how much rejection I can handle. How much disgust."

Carol shook her head, slowly at first, then faster, and faster as she stepped forward again, wrapping around this beautiful, incredible woman who was still standing so tall, so straight, and so brittle all at once, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, unsure really whether this was for Florence or for herself.

"...I love you. I can't imagine- It doesn't change how I feel about you. It doesn't change what I think of you. I..." She broke off and swallowed, shaking her head and searching for words which didn't exist. 

She felt Florence's hands on her wrists, holding tight, grounding both of them and the distance pulled her out of the whirlwind. Falling back into herself she realised they were both breathing hard, and the moment seemed to stretch on forever until reality snapped back into place. 

"Carol... I'm rather tired, perhaps we could go to bed?"

"Yes... of course, I... of course."

Carol hesitated a moment, then leaned in to press a chaste, careful kiss to the dimple in Florence's cheek, shifting back to look her in the eye as the grip they had on each other loosened. 

"...I love you."

Florence squeezed her hands gently, the sparkling in her eyes magnified by tears that were caught on her lashes, not falling by sheer force of will, and this time the smile on her face was softer now. 

"I know. Thank you. I... care very deeply for you."

Carol nodded slowly, her own answering smile aching a little. 

"...I understand. Thank you."

This time when the two of them climbed into bed, Carol could feel a gulf between them, and no matter how close she cuddled up, or how tightly she held on, her heart ached and nothing seemed to bridge it.


	29. Chapter 29

The morning was bright, but somehow the sunshine felt cold on the sheets as Carol drifted up to consciousness, wrapped up tight to Florence's back. She lay there for a moment, wondering whether there was any value in trying to pretend to sleep longer. The words from the previous night were burned into her mind's eye like fire, and there was almost a devilish temptation to run a hand down Florence's torso, to see whether she could feel anything there. She turned her head a little, pressing her nose behind Florence's ear, into her hair, inhaling the scent of her and pressing her eyes closed as tight as she could in an effort to fight down the tears. They weren't her tears to shed, after all. 

She felt Florence shift a little, one hand covering Carol's own as she gently pulled away enough to glance back over her shoulder, smiling softly, and the mask was perfectly back in place so that she might never have realised what was beneath it if she hadn't been permitted that glimpse.

"Good morning..." the kiss was soft and warm, and Carol's heart melted a little before a stabbing pain through it made her eyes open with a start. Florence's smile was bittersweet as she gently stroked her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, "I hope you slept well?"

"I... yes... did you?"

It felt as though her heart is in her mouth as she asked, but Florence's smile was sunny and guileless, as though nothing of the previous night had passed between them at all. Carol wondered how she slept at all without nightmares.

"Oh yes, thank you. Quite well. There's no need to rush whatsoever, but I will go downstairs and make some breakfast. If you don't feel able to come down just yet, I can bring some up for you? Do you need some painkillers perhaps?"

Carol frowned a little, shifting in the sheets to sit up against the pillows, then flushing as she realised what Florence was referring to. She had almost forgotten. 

"...Oh, no, thank you. I'm quite well. I'll be down shortly."

"Wonderful. I don't think really that we need to dress for breakfast, unless you disagree? It's just us girls together after all, and Abby is quite lovely."

"No, I think it might be nice to delay the start of the day a while longer. Is there anything I can do to help, perhaps?"

"Oh no, just take things at your own pace and come down when you're ready."

Florence departed, pulling on her robe and putting up her hair as she left, and Carol watched her go, still utterly astounded by her radiance and resilience. She felt off-balance somehow, as though she should have said something, simultaneously entirely at a loss for what to say. Florence had been right when she said there were no words, but it seemed wrong at the same time to deny it. Was it denying it to simply not mention it? Of course it was only right to follow Florence's lead, it was her body, her story, but Carol still felt entirely adrift. 

Wincing at the dull ache in her abdomen, she got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, feeling more than a little out of her depth. 

~

When Carol headed downstairs for breakfast, she found Abby already at the table in her plaid dressing gown, legs crossed, halfway into her first cigarette of the day. Florence was at the stove with her back to the door, and Carol froze, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Florence had made it so very clear that she didn't wish to be treated differently, and yet Carol was struggling all the same. 

Abby glanced over and tilted her head, frowning a little. 

"...You okay there? You're not quite looking yourself... bad night?"

"No, fine, fine..."

Florence glanced back over her shoulder and dried her hands on a towel. 

"Oh, of course... something to help the pain. Abby's right, you do look quite pale. Is it usually...?"

Carol shook her head, heading for a chair next to Abby and sitting down, retying the belt of her dressing gown for something to busy her hands with. 

"No, no I'm fine. It's not so bad."

"Women's trouble?" Abby asked in an undertone, all sympathy, but with that little bit of incisive awareness Carol was starting to dread at the same time as she appreciated it, "It's not usually so rough for you... is there something you're not telling me?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

Florence set a small cup down on the table in front of Carol on her way back to the pan she was stirring on the hob. 

"...Here, that should help."

"Thank you."

Carol stared at it, feeling her stomach churn, and Abby frowned, studying her friend's face. 

"Okay, something's happened that you're not telling me. What is it? Is it Florence? Do we need to leave?"

"Nothing happened, Abby. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar, Carol."

"Please, just drop it."

"...Fine, but we'll talk about this later."

"There's nothing to talk about."

Two bowls of porridge landed on the table in front of them, and the cafetiere was placed in the middle of the table. 

"Thank you... I don't think I've ever had porridge as nice as the way you make it, what's your secret?"

"Oh, I..."

"Let me guess, magic?"

Abby was teasing, smiling, and Carol forced a smile she didn't really feel, grateful for Abby's willingness to go along with her no matter what. 

Florence chuckled. 

"That's a large part of it, yes. I always find that using whole milk adds to the richness and creaminess, and a hint of salt brings out the sweetness of the honey..."

"I'll have to try that."

"You should. I could perhaps write down the recipe I use? Or try to? If you like?"

"I'd appreciate that a lot..."

Under the table Abby was holding Carol's hand, and Carol squeezed tight, holding on almost for dear life. 

Florence glanced between them, still smiling, pleasant and bright and beautiful, and she took a spoonful of her porridge. 

"Is there anything either of you want to do today?"

"Well... not that we don't appreciate your hospitality, and of course we also appreciate the lessons and we promise we don't take the study of magic lightly, but... It's probably becoming quite urgent that Carol thinks about going back to New York. Who knows what Harge is going to do otherwise."

Carol sighed, bracing her elbows on the table, hands wrapped around her mug of coffee, and she closed her eyes against another wave of tears. She had been handling things so well, really, but she was still off-balance and the thought of going back there, the prospect of losing Rindy again becoming all too real was a bit much. She could blame it perhaps on her hormones, but it was more than that. Still, she refused to cry, even as Abby gently rested a concerned hand on her back, rubbing up and down through her robe. 

"Carol?"

That was Florence's voice, cutting through it all, but Carol only shook her head, unable to speak, unable to form words at all. 

She heard Florence's chair scrape back across the floor, and in a moment she felt herself leaned against that now-familiar body head resting against her ribcage as Florence's arm came around her shoulders and Abby's hand continued to rub up and down her back. Despite herself she turned her face into Florence's body, feeling the tears bubble over and soak into her robe, all the time unable to think about the scars that rested beneath that fabric, the cruelty which had changed her love's life forever and convinced her she was worth so little. 

She didn't know how long she remained between them, surrounded by love and concern and patience until the flow of tears dried up, and she turned back to the table, staring at her now cold coffee and breakfast. 

Florence took pity on her and reheated both with a wave of her hand, a slight frown of concern on her face as she returned to her own seat on the other side of the table. 

"...I'm sorry about that. Please forgive me, that was far... that was entirely irrational and out of proportion, and I apologise."

Both Abby and Florence were quick to reassure her, their words tumbling over each other and Carol tried to smile through it although it seemed like so much meaningless noise. It was well-intentioned and kind, but tempered by her lack of ability to be honest about the causes of her distress. The role of her time of the month in making her feel so brittle had always been one of her least favourite parts of it. 

Carol took a deep breath, and a sip of her coffee, draining almost the entire cup in one sip. 

"...Abby, you're right. I do have to think about going back, as much as I don't want to. It's important. I cannot just... relinquish Rindy to him. I cannot just let him win. So as much as I wish to hide... I must go back."

"Alright. You aren't doing this alone, Carol," Abby assured her, and Carol shot her a grateful smile. 

"No. You aren't." 

Carol glanced across the table, a little surprised by the gravity of Florence's tone, but the witch was regarding her with a strange equanimity to her expression. She shifted a little, folding her arms across herself although her gaze remained steady, locked on Carol's. When she spoke, her voice was soft but unquestionably resolute. 

"Would you like me to come with you?"


	30. Chapter 30

"I... confess I hadn't really thought about it."

Carol wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn't that. Even before she had come to understand what she now knew, Florence had seemed... at home here in a way that seemed to suggest she would not gladly leave it. It had been a little bit of a mystery, something Carol had puzzled over when she spared it any thought at all. As she had gotten to know the woman better it had become transparently obvious that she was beautiful and strong, and now, she had come to understand, powerful. There was so much more to Florence than what New Zebedee seemed to allow for. Now, though, she had come to understand that it was because New Zebedee was safe. Perhaps not even New Zebedee, but her house, and Jonathan's house, these two adjacent lots which she could call home. They were safe, and stepping outside of them would require a great deal of courage, or a great deal of need. Perhaps both. In light of that, the offer was even more surprising. 

"...You're serious?"

"I am."

There is no shadow of doubt on Florence's face. Her words are sincere, calm and serene, that aura of competence back in place which had been part of what captivated Carol in the first place at a time when she felt like her own life was falling apart. 

"...May I think about it?"

"Of course. I simply ask that you let me know with enough notice to pack a bag and say goodbye to Jonathan and Lewis first."

"Of course."

"Good."

Florence smiled brightly and stood, clearing the table before either Carol or Abby could move. 

Abby squeezed Carol's hand gently. 

"C'mon you stupe, if you want to go soon maybe we should think about going up and packing. It's a long drive."

"You're right. I think perhaps I'll aim to leave tomorrow."

"You do that. I might head out today, I'm on thin ice as it is having run out here after you with no notice."

Carol winced, but there was no trace of resentment on Abby's face. 

"...I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You know I'll always come when you call."

"I do. And you... know the same, I hope?"

"I do, but compared to you I lead a very boring life, so I'm not sure how likely it is to come up... c'mon, help me gather up all my things?"

The two of them walked upstairs, hand in hand and arm in arm, savouring the contact, and Carol leaned into Abby in silence. 

They stepped across the threshold into the room Abby was staying in, and Abby closed the door behind them, turning to lift her case onto the bed and gather her things. 

Carol watched in continuing silence, until Abby broke it. 

"So what's going on?"

"What?"

"Something's obviously happened between you and Florence. Have you...?"

"What? Oh, no! No. No we haven't... we haven't."

Abby glanced up at her with that fey knowing in her eyes Carol had come to both appreciate and dread. 

"...So what is it?"

"...I can't tell you, Abby."

"But you're not denying there is something."

"I'm not denying anything, but... what there may or may not be to tell... is not mine to tell. That's all there is to it."

"Is it about Florence?"

"...You're not going to drop this, are you."

"No."

"...Yes. It's about Florence. But Abby, don't you think you've pushed enough there already?"

"Well is it about now, or is it... about before, or...?"

"Why does it /matter/, Abby?"

"Because it's obviously upset you, and you've got enough to be handling at the moment without dealing with that kind of thing too."

Carol sighed and sat in the chair by the door, crossing her legs and folding her arms and watching Abby fold her things to put back in her little bag. 

"...Tell me, are you like this with Mildred too, or is it just me and Florence who get this sudden laser focus of yours, Mr Holmes?"

Abby sighed. 

"...I'm sorry, Carol. I care about you a great deal, and seeing you upset is difficult. I feel you have quite enough to be getting on with without Florence making it harder for you and upsetting you, regardless of what she's been through."

"...Abby, you and I can't possibly understand what she's been through. Florence has done nothing wrong, and nothing to upset me. That much I can promise, but that is all I can tell you."

"...Alright, fine. I'm sorry. I'll leave it. And I won't bug Florence about it either."

"Thank you," Carol stood and crossed the room to Abby's side, resting a hand on her back and tilting her head. "...Is my interrogation over now?"

Abby wrapped an arm around her and gently squeezed Carol's elbow with a sigh. 

"I suppose so."

Carol gave her a quick peck on the cheek. 

"Thank you. I'll let you find the rest of your things in peace."

"Take care, Carol..."

And Abby watched her go.

~~~

Carol was surprised to bump into Jonathan as she went downstairs. 

"Hey there Carol, you got a minute?"

"Of course..."

Somewhat bemused, she followed him into the living room, aware that Florence was still in the kitchen as they passed. 

"So Florence tells me you'll be leaving us shortly..."

"Yes, I think... well, I think Abby is right and I need to go back and face what is waiting for me in New York."

Jonathan nodded, and Carol is unsure whether or not to be concerned by this sudden change in character. She doesn't think she has ever seen him so serious. 

Jonathan rested a finger on his chin, and continued, this sudden seriousness such a change in temperament from his usual self that Carol isn't sure whether or not to laugh. 

"...She also tells me that last night she shared something with you. I hope that has nothing to do with your decision to leave."

Carol frowned for a moment, trying to work out what he was alluding to when the full horror of it hit her like a body blow, so much so that she unconsciously raised her hands as if to fend off the idea. 

"No. No, not at all. Of course not. I... what she... revealed to me last night has... no impact whatsoever on what I think of her. On how I feel about her. It changes nothing between us. And I don't want it to."

Jonathan was watching her, and Carol floundered to a stop, cheeks burning, wondering how he could ever have thought she might reject Florence because of that. But then... she understood the fear all the same, more than she wished to, and she was glad that Florence had someone like Jonathan to defend her even when she could not or would not defend herself. 

"...Alright. Good. As long as we understand each other."

Carol twisted her hands together for a moment, then forced herself to lower them to her sides, squaring her shoulders, unconsciously mimicking Florence. 

"...I like Florence very much. I care about her very deeply, and nothing she has trusted me with has changed that. I cannot think of anything that might change my opinion of her. I hold her in the highest esteem and the deepest affection. I will never, knowingly, intentionally, or carelessly cause her harm."

Jonathan nodded, and some of the tension seemed to bleed from the room.

"Good. Then we do understand each other. I'm not asking you to be perfect, Carol. Nobody can do that. But I want you to understand that, if anyone deserves perfect, it's that woman just in there, and I will not take kindly to anyone breaking her heart."

Carol nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling it with a sigh. 

"...Understood, Jonathan. Thank you. Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm glad you understand."

"I do."

Jonathan bowed his head and stepped back to open the door for her. 

Carol walked through it, head held high, and appreciated it when he didn't follow her. Instead, she glanced towards the kitchen, towards the familiar figure of Florence standing at the sink, and came to a conclusion. 

She walked back to stand in the doorway. 

"Florence?"

The other woman looked up, smiling, head tilted in a silent, unasked question.

Carol took a deep breath. 

"...Would you? Be willing to come with me, I mean?"

And the smile grew, brilliant and soft and warm all at once, as Florence nodded and Carol felt a fear she didn't know she'd been holding fade. 

"...Yes. I would be honoured."


	31. Chapter 31

As bedtime approached, Carol felt butterflies rising in her stomach. Abby had said her farewells earlier and was on the road back to her own place, leaving the two of them alone in the house again. Perhaps twenty four hours ago she might have welcomed that, but now there was a whole new layer of uncertainty over the whole thing. She certainly didn't regret inviting Florence to come with her, no, but there was some complicated maelstrom of emotion tumbling around inside her. She dreaded what would come tomorrow, even with Florence at her side there was a real feeling about walking back into the lion's den about the prospect of returning to New York, and to Harge and his demands. There was also a voice whispering in the back of her mind about the events of last night. Despite Florence's apparent refusal to acknowledge any part of it, the shadow was still hanging over Carol's mind and she wondered how she would be able to confront it, how to move past it. She wanted so much to prove to Florence that it hadn't changed how Carol thought of her. In the important ways it hasn't, apart from leaving her even more determined to somehow protect Florence from the rest of the world outside, as powerless as she felt right now. 

The two of them finished dinner, and Carol pushed her chair back, standing and clearing the plates before Florence could move. 

The other woman watched her, deep blue eyes keenly alert.

"...You know, you hardly have to protect me from the washing up."

Carol looked back over her shoulder from where she was already wrist-deep in the sink, trying to keep the surprise off her face. She hadn't thought Florence could read minds. 

"...What?"

An almost-smile danced on Florence's lips.

"You don't have to protect me from the washing up."

"I don't- can you-"

"No, don't worry. I can't read minds. Nor would I wish to, even if I had that power. Your thoughts aren't quite written all over your face, but ever since I told you last night it's been possible to read on you. And I appreciate it. Truly. It's a natural reaction. But as I told you last night, I won't break if you touch me. As hard as it may be to face, I have survived on my own in this world after what was done to me. I don't need your protection."

Carol hesitated, letting the plate she had been scrubbing settle back into the water and turning to face Florence, peeling off the gloves. The washing up could wait. 

"...No, you don't need it, but is it so wrong of me to want to offer it?"

"Not at all. It's natural, I think, to want to protect those whom we care about."

"That's why you gave me the earrings."

"Yes."

Florence's face was still perfectly serene, her voice even and calm, a picture of control Carol did not, could not understand. 

"...You barely knew me then."

Florence's eyes dropped to her glass as she took a sip, setting it carefully back down on the table, empty, before she looked back up at Carol. 

"I knew enough. And you were the first person in a long time to come into my life. Perhaps I reacted strongly because of that."

"Are you saying you regret it?"

"No," Florence's voice was gentle, and Carol didn't understand why her own control seemed so threadbare in comparison. "I am not saying that. And whatever may happen between us, I don't believe I will ever regret it. Nor will I regret passing Celeste's necklace on to your daughter."

"...No. And I will never truly be able to thank you for that." Carol gripped the countertop on either side of her with white knuckles, striving to regain control of herself. "If it is so natural, and you accept that I care about you, why do you refuse it? You allow Jonathan to protect you."

"Jonathan knows that I don't need his protection."

"He knows that you might not need it, but that doesn't stop him protecting you, he just does it where you can't see him and challenge him on it. Is it so hard to accept that we care about you? Just because you can do so much alone, it doesn't mean that you have to anymore. It doesn't prove anything. You don't have anything to prove to anyone and accepting help doesn't make you weak."

Florence sat there in silence, and Carol could have sworn she could hear the words echoing. She hadn't intended them to come out so bitter. There is an element in there of something sanctimonious that makes her a little uncomfortable. After all, she has hardly been handling the mess with Harge without some level of self-enforced loneliness. 

When she spoke again, she made a conscious effort to soften her tone. 

"...I just mean... That I love you. And I know that what you faced alone was terrible. Something nobody should have to face. And everything that came after, because it wasn't just any one thing, it was all of it, and you were alone for so much of it, and then you came here and you were alone, and you have had to do so very much alone. I don't wish to take away from that, I don't wish to deny it, I don't wish to diminish you or your strength or your scars. But you aren't alone now, and you don't need to battle your demons alone either. You have Jonathan, and you have Lewis, and you have Abby, and you have me. I am here. And I love you. There is no prize for being a martyr, there is no prize for surviving so much alone. I... perhaps it's selfish, but I might hope... that our need... our affection for you might outweigh the importance of you proving that you don't need anyone. There is nothing for you to prove."

Florence watched her for a long moment, and Carol could hear her own heartbeat seemingly echoing in the silence, wondering if she had gone too far, wondering if it was too late to take any of those words back. She was sitting there now, her shoulders set, neck long, head high, just as she had been the night before and Carol's heart was in her mouth until Florence took a deep breath and said: 

"...You're right. I'm sorry. It's... selfish, more than anything. In some ways I suppose it is trying to keep those I love safe from the harm of being associated with me. For a long time being associated with me would not only have been socially and politically undesirable, but actively dangerous. Keeping people at arm's length is... an effort to keep them protected, because I know... I learned, that I could not keep anyone safe, no matter how much or how deeply I loved them. And I cannot lose anymore than I have already lost. Even that I barely survived. So I'm sorry. I appreciate your kindness, and your concern, and your love more than I can possibly express."

She sighed, and her shoulders slumped from where they had been held so rigidly, and Carol felt her heart ache. In some ways it felt worse to see the walls come down. 

"...I do... believe that I love you. What I feel for you is... complicated, and I hope you understand the many demons and ghosts which... those words carry a great deal of weight. They aren't words I can say easily, even if I feel them to be true. I hope, with time, that they will come with greater ease, because you deserve to know that you are loved and to hear it often. For now, though, it is not something I can easily give, and I hope... that you can understand and forgive me, and I hope that you can trust it even without those words."

The urge to close the gap between them was irrepressible, and for all that it was only a handful of short steps, Carol took it practically at a run, easing Florence's grip loose from where she was holding her own wrists so tightly her knuckles gleamed like bone under the bulb above. 

At Carol's touch, Florence looked up and swallowed, and even now there was a set to her jaw, clenched so tight Carol ached to look at it, but she was no longer attempting to hide. 

"...I can. I do. Thank you, Florence. And I am sorry too. I never intended to... I went too far, I think. But I have fallen in love with you, very easily. You are so easy to love, even if you will not let yourself be. And there is no one, save possibly Abby, who I would rather have in my corner for the fight ahead."

After a beat, a breath neither of them realised they were holding, Florence leant forward, closing that scant bit of distance and closing her eyes as she rested her head against Carol's stomach. Carol felt her heart skip as she loosened one hand and brought it to rest in Florence's hair, stroking lightly, gently, careful not to muss it for all that it was only the two of them here. Her other hand still held tight to Florence's, and she tried not to think too hard about this reversal of their usual positions. 

Time seemed to stretch on, unending, until eventually they both shifted, and Carol stepped back to allow Florence enough room to get back to her feet. Still she didn't relinquish Carol's hand, only glancing back over her shoulder and asking with uncharacteristic hesitance:

"...I think the dishes can possibly wait until tomorrow. Shall we go to bed?"

Carol smiled, and on the spur of the moment lifted Florence's hand to her lips and kissed the back of it, following her towards the stairs. 

"Yes. I think we shall."

Carol followed Florence up the stairs, and although it was hardly the first time Florence had been in the lead, Carol realised this was the first time she had felt in control of the situation between them. 

Florence led the way into the bedroom and then stopped, seemingly at sea, and Carol closed the door behind them, slowly closing the distance between them. She stood opposite Florence and took her hands, simply standing opposite her and waiting for Florence to meet her eyes again. 

When she did, Carol smiled softly. 

"...Are you alright?"

After a moment's consideration, Florence nodded, seeming to settle into herself. 

"...Yes. I am. Thank you."

"Good..."

Carol kissed her cheek gently, then stepped away, but not too far. She wanted to stay close enough. 

She paused a moment, then turned, glancing back over her shoulder. 

"...Could you unbutton me, please?"

There was a brief hesitation, and then Florence stepped forward, bracing one hand lightly against Carol's shoulder while the other went to the first button at the nape of her neck. 

She unfastened them methodically, slowly, deliberately, and Carol closed her eyes and focused on the points of contact between them, feeling the cool air on her bare skin as Florence got lower and lower, then she held her breath as the movement stopped, wondering what lead Florence would take next. 

It was a relief and a thrill all at once when she felt both of Florence's hands come to rest on bare skin just inside her dress, coaxing it down her shoulders, and Carol leaned into the touch a little, feeling her heart flutter against her ribs as Florence brushed the lightest of kisses against her shoulder blade. 

Her dress fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it, gathering it up and turning to place it back on its hanger before it could crumple too badly, standing there in her bra and girdle, the ugly elastic of the sanitary belt shifting to reveal red marks on her skin where it had held too tight through the day. 

Florence was watching her, and Carol could see the way her breath caught in her throat, the way she was caught between fear and desire all at once.

Carol hung her dress aside, then closed the gap between them once more, resting her hands on the button of Florence's skirt. 

"...May I?"

This was new, this intimacy between them, and there was no need to rush it. To the contrary, Carol wanted to savour it, wanted to savour everything she was given, and to be certain that she is not taking too much or too greedily, too soon. Florence was too precious for that. 

Florence nodded, and Carol popped the button easily, going down with the skirt to her knees and gazing up at Florence through her lashes as the other woman stepped out of it, her eyes locked on Carol. 

Carol stood again, her hands this time going to the hem of Florence's sweater, and Florence offered no resistance as Carol guided it up and over her head, treating it with as much respect as she had shown her own clothes. 

Florence looked almost vulnerable without her armour now, and Carol gently cupped her cheek, skimming her thumb along Florence's cheekbone until their eyes met again. 

"...You're beautiful," She breathed, and she meant it. 

Florence smiled then, warm and soft and real in her eyes as she pressed a kiss to Carol's palm, as soft as a butterfly's wing. 

"Thank you. So are you."

It felt like a victory that she said nothing to refute it, and Carol turned easily when Florence's hands guided her around for the other woman to help ease down her girdle and unhook her bra. With those uncomfortable restraints gone, she was more than happy to return the favour, and they shared a few soft kisses as the clothes of the day were shed and replaced with something far more comfortable. Carol felt the regret in her bones as she had to step away from the contact to change the pad in her sanitary belt, but even in the cool darkness of the hallway she could still feel the warm patterns of Florence's touches on her skin.

They settled into bed together, and Carol marvelled inwardly for a moment at how quickly this had become natural between them. It was only a handful of nights, and before that they had hardly been so close. At Christmas they had shared a room, yes, but not a bed, and now... perhaps it is something to cherish. 

Although there was plenty of room, neither of them seemed to feel the need to expand into it when the alternative was to cuddle close together. It felt like every time they did, Carol found yet more ways in which they fitted together. This time was different again, and she is pillowing Florence's head on her arm, one hand gently playing through the ash blonde strands. She looked so different with it down, and seeing it felt like a special honour accorded only a few, like some holy relic of a religious order only the higher echelons were permitted to view. 

Florence's eyes crinkled at the edges again as she watched Carol's face. 

"...I still don't know how to adjust to the way you look at me."

Carol tilted her head with a smile, continuing to comb her fingers through the silver strands. 

"How do you mean?"

"You look at me as if I'm something precious, some treasure in a dragon's hoard somewhere you find utterly captivating."

"That's because you are precious. Precious, and beautiful, and worthy of protection."

Florence sighed, but the smile didn't entirely vanish from her face, and for the moment that felt like a victory. 

"...Alright. I'm not going to argue with you anymore about it. I simply ask that you do me the courtesy of allowing me to protect you too, as best as I am able."

Carol leaned in for a chaste kiss, smiling as Florence met her halfway. 

"...I would love nothing more."

Slumber came easily enough, and Carol was glad of it. Quite apart from the emotional rollercoaster of the last few days, she was on the verge of returning to the battle for her daughter, and dreading what weapons her husband might pull out next in an attempt to discredit her, to deny her, to destroy her. 

The moon was high in the sky when that peaceful illusion was shattered, along with the mirror above the dressing table on the other side of the room, and Carol jumped to wakefulness to find Florence sat bolt upright, her legs over the side of the bed, retching. 

Carol reached for her, but jumped back when Florence flinched from her touch like red-hot metal, hands lingering in the air a moment, useless, before she lowered them powerlessly to the sheets. 

"Florence?"

Silence.

And then, eventually:

"...I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry... what..." she began to ask before realising that she didn't really know where to begin, what to ask, and once more fell silent again, as ineffectual as her attempt to reach out more literally had been. 

"They took my daughter away. It's not what happened, of course. Not quite like that. But it's what I saw, what I... It's what I saw."

A beat, and Florence raised her head, glancing across the room and wincing. 

"...Did I... I must have done that. I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've lost control like that in my sleep."

Carol nodded, gently reaching out again, and this time when her hand came to rest on Florence's shoulder, she offered no resistance. Instead, Florence leaned into the touch, just barely, and glanced tentatively back over her shoulder to meet Carol's eyes. 

"...I'm sorry. I understand if... perhaps you'd rather sleep somewhere else..."

Carol frowned, cocking her head to the side a little in confusion. 

"And why would I want to do that?"

"I lost control. You might not feel safe."

Carol swallowed down her own fear, far more thrown by the ragged pain in Florence's voice than by the broken glass on the other side of the room. Even when she had been talking about what had happened, Florence had remained almost flawlessly in control. This is naked and vulnerable and ugly, bleeding between them in a tide Carol can't stem. 

She shifted, that one point of contact lingering on Florence's shoulder as she moved to steady her, the other hand resting on her upper arm while Florence sat, unmoving, rigid, shivering slightly in the dark.

Carol moved onto her knees just behind Florence, trying to offer her some kind of shelter, something to lean on, some kind of comfort. Indeed, Florence did lean into her, and Carol gently slid her hands down from Florence's shoulders to take her hands, unable to muffle the hiss that escaped her when she eased Florence's hands away from her thighs to reveal dark, bloody crescents on the skin where she had been digging in too deep to keep herself together. 

"...Those look nasty."

"They're nothing."

Carol sighed, and Florence subconsciously turned her face into the brush of air over her cheek. 

"...They're not nothing. At least let me clean them? Perhaps put some gauze over them to avoid anything staining the sheets?"

A pause, and then Florence nodded mutely, and Carol eased back from her, reluctant about it. It seemed wrong somehow to leave her like this, even if only for a few minutes. 

She reached for the bedside lamp, relieved when it turned on, bringing a feel of the mundane back to a room which had previously been in darkness with only flashes of moonlight to gild the edges of it, painting it in shades of unreality. She rose and moved around the bed, careful as she reached the end by the dressing table to avoid treading on any shards of glass. Fortunately they seemed to be largely contained, and she was able to reach the bathroom unscathed. 

When Carol returned, she knelt gently in front of Florence, thinking about how strange a full circle this was that they had travelled. She gently dabbed the gouges with iodine, pausing to place Florence's hands deliberately back on the sheets when her fingers flexed at the sting. Satisfied when they were clean, she covered both sets with gauze and wrapped them in place, pinning the bandages firmly. 

She looked up to see a shaky smile on Florence's lips, tears threatening in her eyes which had not been there before. 

"...I admit, I've worn more flattering garters."

Carol smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the bare skin above the bandage, somehow hyperaware of the little gasp that escaped Florence's lips. 

"...Perhaps one day you might allow me to see them?"

Florence's smile was shaky at the edges, but real nonetheless, and her eyes are clear of shadows now. 

"One day I'm certain that could be arranged."

Carol laughed softly and stood, throwing the blood and iodine stained cotton in the bin, and returning to the bed. 

Florence shifted back into it, staring ruefully at the remains of the mirror. 

"I suppose I should-"

"It can wait till morning, love," Carol cut her off, gentle but firm about it as she wrapped an arm around Florence and urged her close once more, smiling when Florence nuzzled into Carol's shoulder and wrapped an arm around her in turn. 

"...Are you sure?"

"Certain," Carol replied, fingers once more combing through Florence's hair, gently scritching the nape of her neck as she reached out with her spare hand to turn the light off. 

Exhaustion was poorly concealed in Florence's tone as she yawned, nuzzling against Carol's collarbone and settling dwn to sleep once more. 

"...Alright. If you're sure."

Carol kissed her forehead, staring out into the darkness for a while as she listened to Florence's breathing slow and quieten. She could understand the fear of that nightmare more than she would ever have wished to, but there was nothing to be done but to fight for it, and as scared as she was, she felt sincerely that the fight would hold less terror with Florence by her side. 

The effect of Florence's breathing was not entirely unlike a lullaby, and before long, Carol found that she too had fallen asleep, this time blessedly undisturbed until dawn.


	32. Chapter 32

The morning dawned, bright and cold and clear. Carol woke to a knot in her stomach that refused to move, and rather than get up and start the day, beginning an inexorable slide towards the inevitable, she closed her eyes again and tried to swallow down the gorge rising in her throat. 

Waking up next to Florence is still something she's adjusting to, something delicate and fragile she is terrified to take for granted, and it seems natural to want to hold onto it for this moment longer and deny anything, everything else. 

The house was quieter now that Abby was gone, and even though there was no obvious sign of it, Carol could sense the change in the air. Everything is changing, all the time, and not so secretly she longs for a constant. 

Florence shifted beside her, opening those deep blue eyes. It almost feels like progress that Florece is still here and they have woken together, but when Carol rolled over to look at the clock she found it was not quite six yet. 

"...Good morning."

"Good morning... how did you sleep?"

"Other than that... incident, I slept rather well thank you. I suppose I should get up and deal with it."

"Is it so necessary to rise already?"

Florence shrugged as she sat up, pushing herself up from the bed. Carol could already feel her absence, subconsciously shifting to tuck herself into the warm patch that Florence had left behind, wanting to hold onto her for a little while longer somehow. The other woman glanced back over her shoulder. 

"...You said yourself that we have a long drive ahead of us. Perhaps it will be better to get an early start, and then to have some time at the other end to rest and settle in before tomorrow. Have you made the appointment yet?"

"...No. No I haven't."

"Then we don't have a deadline by which we must arrive."

"Nothing concrete. I didn't want to risk anything going wrong. It seemed... safer somehow to already be in position before revealing any of our cards... my cards."

Florence was inspecting the remains of the mirror while Carol spoke, but once more she turned sharply at those words. 

"...That seems sensible. It is wise to hold on to any advantage against an enemy, that much is true. Why do you hesitate to bring me into this fight? It seems to me that I am already very much part of it."

Carol hesitated, suddenly feeling very much like a hypocrite as she shifted in the sheets. 

"...You're right. I'm sorry. I never really... meant for you to be a part of it I suppose. I never meant for anyone else to be dragged into it, or for it to be a fight at all. We had already reached an agreement, but then... I made mistakes and things changed. This is my fault, I know that, it seems... wrong to ask anyone else to join me in that responsibility."

"When you arrived on my doorstep the first time, no, I know you didn't dream for a moment that I might end up a part of this with you. Neither of us did. It seemed so simple. A bed for the night and kindness to a stranger in a winter storm. I don't think either of us could have foreseen this and divination has never been a particular gift of mine. If it had been I don't think I would have used it. The future can be cruel, and sometimes it is easier to be brave without knowledge of it. Truly I wouldn't wish that talent on anyone. But you opened up to me and you trusted me, and I shared with you in return because it was easy enough to do in the knowledge that we would never see each other again. The fabric of life is strange, though, and the threads of fate twist in unexpected ways at times."

Florence turned her attention back to the mirror for a moment and waved a hand, watching critically to ensure that the broken fragments started to reassembled correctly before she once more faced Carol. 

"...But what you must understand is that your fight is my fight now. Not only because of... choices we may have made and things which now pass between us, but because if you refuse to let me fight my own battles alone you cannot be surprised when I will not leave you to do the same thing either."

Carol nodded, her hands twisting in the sheets. She glanced up, storm-grey eyes clear and soft blonde curls tickling her cheek. 

"...I suppose I have been a little bit of a hypocrite."

Florence smiled. 

"...Perhaps a little, minette."

Carol looked up and tilted her head. 

"Minette? What's that?"

"...An endearment. If you would prefer, I can-"

"...What does it mean?"

"I suppose the literal translation might be kitten... I... it seemed a moment for... I'm sorry."

Carol smiled as she watched Florence's cheeks colour a little. She hadn't believed the witch could ever be flustered, let alone by something so simple, but at the same time she understood. This thing between them was new and unfamiliar, and Florence had plenty of reasons to be uncertain about it aside from the obvious. Seeing a flash of the woman she might once have been felt like something to treasure, and it sent a little thrill through her all the same. 

"...Please don't be sorry? I... liked it?"

Florence took a deep breath, steadying herself and stemming the flow of words before they could spiral out of control. She smiled. 

"...Good. Are you ready for breakfast?"

"...I don't feel particularly hungry?"

Florence gave Carol an unimpressed look. 

"...Minette we have a very long day ahead of us, and a long drive besides. You must eat something."

Carol hesitated. 

"You're right. Perhaps... might I have a bath?"

"Of course. I'll make some breakfast, and bring you some tea. Is it... do you have pains?"

Carol smiled a little, wan, but grateful nonetheless. It was... different to have someone who understood, and it helped ease things in what was already a difficult period. 

"...Some. I can't tell if it's that or simple dread."

"...There is a great deal ahead of us, it's true, but somehow we will face the oncoming storm."

"Will we prevail?"

"We can do no more than our best."

"...You're right. Thank you."

Florence smiled and pulled on her robe, turning to head downstairs.

Carol waited another moment, happiness and fear warring in her gut. She hadn't expected a pet name, but it sat right on Florence's lips and tasted sweet in her mouth and she found that she wanted to hear it more and more. Names had power though, that was something she was beginning to understand, and she didn't want the magic of it to wear off. 

She pushed herself up from the bed and went to the bathroom. A good hot soak would help clear her head. 

~

When she went downstairs, it was to a mug of coffee steaming at her place, and a plate piled high with fluffy pancakes and syrup. 

"...Thank you. This looks delicious. And you're right that it's a good start to the day."

"You're welcome. I suppose if I were truly American there would have been bacon with it, but that's something I still can't quite... I don't hold on to many of the old ways. What I do hold onto is more subconscious than deliberate. But it's something I don't really think of. If you would enjoy it then I don't... it wouldn't bother me."

"I hadn't even thought about that, honestly... I'm sorry."

Florence shrugged, sipping her own coffee as she watched. 

"There's no need, really. I don't suppose you've met many Jews before."

"...No. I haven't. There are a lot in the City, plenty of delis and the like, but..."

"No. It's alright. Let's eat, then we should pack. Being up at this time we should be able to say goodbye to Jonathan and Lewis before Lewis goes to school and then we could get a good start."

Carol smiled, glancing across the table from under the curl of her hair and trying to ignore the flush on her cheeks as she replied. 

"...Of course, darling."

There was another flush of pink on Florence's cheeks and Carol felt the satisfaction of it curl in her gut, loosening the knot there somewhat as she began to eat. 

They continued in silence for a few minutes, both of them intent on breakfast rather than anything else, and content to let the quiet stretch on between them, undemanding. Eventually it was Florence who broke it again. 

"...Where are we aiming for, tonight?"

"You know, that's a good question. I had been considering it. I suppose in some ways Abby's place is an obvious choice, but given the allegations... given the situation perhaps it wouldn't be politically advisable."

"Are you sure it's advisable for me to come with you, then?"

Carol shrugged, setting her knife and fork down carefully. 

"I don't know. Honestly I would still prefer it if you did. Perhaps not into the meeting itself, that would be... I don't wish to give them any more ammunition than they already have, and I don't want you to be dragged into this more than you already have been, more than you already are. The last meeting proved that Harge is not above fighting nasty, for all that I had thought better of him, for all that I had hoped... and so... I would like you to come. I... need you to come."

Florence nodded. The admission itself was surprising. Heartfelt and aching and real, and absolutely undeniable. 

"Then I will come. But the question remains where shall we go?"

"...I had thought about perhaps booking into a hotel. We could have separate rooms, but there are some with adjoining doors and it's not so unusual to have a travelling companion, especially as a single woman. I would hope... given that I have not been tracked here, I would hope that we might also return undetected and it might not raise suspicion. I think... it might be kinder than the house. Although I could return there, I'm not sure I could bear it without Rindy, walking through rooms of empty memories."

Florence nodded and rose, gently resting a hand on Carol's shoulder for a moment as she passed and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Perhaps that is something to consider, minette. Would you be so kind as to do the dishes while I dress?"

"Of course darling, it's only fair."

The name feels like honey on her lips, and the secret little smile Florence shoots her as she steps into the hallway, fragile and yet beautifully real is enough to make Carol start humming as she steps into the puddle of sunlight by the sink and begins to run a bowl of water.


	33. Chapter 33

There was still a crispness to the morning air as the two of them carried their suitcases out to Carol's car and loaded them in. The crackle around them was more than just the first hint of the changing seasons, a last vestige of spring hanging on as the days lengthened and turned to summer. There was a sense of expectation, a thrill and a fear all at once, and they found themselves exchanging glances, and little brushes of contact with greater frequency. 

Goodbyes were said, and Snakespeare handed over to Lewis for looking after, and the two women climbed into the car.

Carol settled in the driving seat, fussing over her things and pulling on her gloves while Florence neatly folded her knees together and sat as still as a statue, the whiteness of her knuckles the only hint as to her nerves. 

"We've got quite the drive ahead... I thought we might stop in a little place called Clarion... it's about halfway between here and the city. I think that as it is will make for two long days."

"That sounds perfectly fine. Did you stop there on your way?"

"The first time? No... no I didn't. I thought about it though. I'm sure it'll be a nice little town. Do we have the picnic?"

"We have plenty of food and two thermoses of coffee. I'm quite certain we'll manage, and we can always stop off at a diner. That's what people usually do, isn't it?"

"I suppose you're right..." Carol frowned a little and glanced at Florence, "Have you travelled much?"

"Around the States? No. When I was settled in New Zebedee I stayed here. I'm sure if I'd wanted to I might have managed, but I never... I had quite enough to manage without throwing that confusion in on top of things. I've managed to get everything I need in New Zebedee, though sometimes I order things from catalogues and they come in the mail. Jonathan travels sometimes, though not very often. He and Lewis were coming back from a trip when we met."

"Of course they were..."

Carol hesitated. 

"...You're really willing to do this for me? I hadn't appreciated how..."

"I came in through New York, many years ago. It was overwhelming then, and I'm certain it hasn't changed, but I am more myself now and I am not alone."

"If you'd prefer, I'm sure Abby would be happy to wait with you while I-"

"I'll manage." Florence's reply was firm, but she softened it a little with a smile. "Thank you, though. I appreciate your concern."

Carol nodded and swallowed, then started the car, grateful that it purred into life. She didn't think she could have handled any issues with the battery at this point, even though Jonathan would undoubtedly have helped. Idly she found herself wondering whether it was possible to jump an engine with magic. It didn't seem like the kind of thing Florence would know, but perhaps Jonathan... she certainly wasn't confident or powerful enough herself yet to try it. 

As they drove quietly out of town, Carol tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach that said she was driving both of them to their doom. Surely even Harge couldn't be that dramatic.

~

Florence was captivated by all the ways the world seems to have changed in the time she's been shut away in a small little town that goes mostly untouched by the passing of time. She'd certainly never seen so many cars before, and the new buildings which have sprung up everywhere, concrete and glass and steel like illustrations from the covers of pulp science fiction novels are something she's not quite comfortable with. Something a very long way from the Paris she knew. 

It was dark by the time they reached Clarion, and it turned out that it was indeed a nice little place. Carol secured them a twin room in a small hotel without a second glance, making small talk with the woman behind the desk in a way that feels almost like she must be speaking another language. 

Florence waited behind her, gripping her umbrella so tight she was almost surprised it didn't snap. Being away from home felt exposed and vulnerable. Despite knowing this was supposed to be somewhere safe, she felt under scrutiny, waiting for the pointing fingers, the sneers, accusations and the hated word. 

Carol finished her business at the counter and the woman's gaze slid back over her shoulder to Florence. 

"Oh, is it going to rain?"

"...The sky looks clear, but I never like to take it for granted."

The voice doesn't quite sound like hers, but the social loop has been closed, and the woman only nods and doesn't enquire further. Florence lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and follows Carol back out to the car to collect the cases, grateful beyond words for the brief squeeze to her elbow Carol gives her as they step back out. 

They don't speak as they carry the cases along to the room, and Carol locked the door behind them, sitting down heavily on one of the beautiful twin beds with clean linens and heaving a sigh of relief. 

"You know, I don't quite know how I feel going back to all of this. I feel like... being there in New Zebedee with you... the rest of the world doesn't seem quite real. In a good way. It's possible to forget things, to hide from them... but denial has never served anyone I suppose, or if it has I suspect it's mostly men."

Carol gave Florence a wicked smile, then fell back on the bed with a groan.

"Oh... it's never quite as good as your own bed... but there's still something magical about a hotel, don't you think?"

"I... confess it hasn't really played a great part in my experience so far."

Carol lifted her head just enough to be able to see Florence still standing awkwardly where they had put the cases down, and she stretches one arm out to the side in an invitation. 

"...C'mon. There's plenty of room."

"It's a twin bed..."

Florence gestured vaguely at the other bed, and Carol huffed out a laugh. 

"You don't have to sleep over there, darling. It'll be simple enough to mess it up in the morning for some plausible deniability if it would make you more comfortable."

Florence nodded, pushing herself away from the wall and perching gingerly next to Carol on the narrow bed, then laying down beside her, tucking into her side. 

"...Is this really all so new to you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sure it must seem like I'm some wide-eyed naive, but..."

"No I... I suppose I hadn't really given it much thought. Forgive me for all kinds of selfish assumptions. You mentioned Paris, yes?"

"Yes. I grew up near there and then... when I was young I moved to the city for a start of my own. I waited tables in a cafe and rubbed shoulders with artists and men and women who rejected so many of the accepted norms outside of our little world. It was... freedom and questioning and heady and wonderful, and though the storm clouds were gathering, we remained, for the most part, blissfully unaware. It all feels so remote now, like a dream, a fragile fairy tale built of glass too brittle to be handled. There are memories I keep safe in boxes, wrapped in tissue paper, only to be brought out on those rare occasions when it's necessary. I was so young. Things were... bright and beautiful and I felt invincible. That's one of the follies of youth, isn't it. But France then and America now... are almost two different worlds. New Zebedee might not be exciting, but it is safe and familiar, and there are parts of that I recognise. The road here... the scale of it, the new cars and the factories and such... I feel... like I've stepped into another world I don't know how to negotiate."

"How old were you when you met Maurice? If you don't mind my asking?"

"When I met Maurice? I was young. It seems a lifetime ago. I was fifteen when I moved to the city. Things were already... changing, dying. It was the end of the Annees Folles. The Depression took its time to reach France, but it touched us. It touched everyone, really, the ripple effects of what happened here spread throughout the world. I met him when I was sixteen. I met a lot of people. I had... fun. It was still like a little enclave of this magical world where the realities didn't matter so much and I was too young to have much of a concept of how they might change. I grew up... most of my experience was after the great war, things I knew, people... most of what I knew growing up was the Annees Folles, and all of what went with it."

"Did you... how long did you know him before...?"

Florence smiled a little, turning her head away from Carol to gaze into the middle distance, remembering gilded times. 

"A few years. I knew a lot of people. I flirted and there were plenty who flirted back. Sometimes it went further. I wasn't ready to settle down. I was young and things were exciting, but he waited... and I knew, eventually, I knew that I was ready to settle down and it was never going to be with anyone other than him. I was nineteen when I married him, and twenty one when I had Celeste. We were building a wonderful little life and then... things changed. Slowly at first, and then all at once, and then..."

Carol interlaced her fingers with Florence's hand, squeezing gently, saying nothing. There was nothing she could say, nothing to be said, and the two of them remained in silence. 

"Sometimes I feel like I was a different person then... but I don't envy her the happiness she had."

Carol nodded, shifting onto her side, tucking herself up against Florence's back and marvelling at how things had changed that she was the one taking this position. She tucked her other arm over Florence's waist, carefully angling it so her hand rested over the bottom of Florence's ribs rather than lower. Knowing what she knew now, it seemed unfair to taint the bittersweetness of this moment. 

"...Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me these things."

"Thank you for asking."

Florence's hand covered Carol's own, and Carol found herself hypnotised for a moment by the way Florence's heartbeat against her fingers seemed so perfectly synchronised to her own. 

"...What about you? And Harge?"

"Oh I met him when I was twenty three. I went to college... not with any intention much to study something world changing, but because... I was following the path laid out in front of me. I had some boyfriends, some serious, some not so much... and a few room mates in college I was... close to. And there was Abby. There was always Abby. But nothing happened between us until... well, until much later. Things were... good. Easy, you know? And when the war broke out, Harge signed up and when he came back things were... different. But we still managed, and I didn't want to leave him. He knew... when we married I told him everything, and he knew about me, and he accepted that then. I suppose he thought it was all in the past. And then we had Rindy, and then things with Abby... happened, and then everything... got harder and more ugly. He was a decent man. I believe he still is, beneath everything, but he's fighting to hold on to something he hasn't realised he doesn't have anymore, and he's fighting like he's cornered."

"He hurt you."

Florence's words reverberated in her chest, and into Carol, and Carol closed her eyes, letting herself feel them for a moment. 

"...Yes. Isn't it a typical male response when in pain? To search for someone else to inflict it on instead?"

"I have no patience for it. I am less kind than you, I think."

"I loved him once. It's harder... I think it's easier for you to be less kind."

"Have you forgiven him?"

"I think I will forgive him one day. But not yet. And that... that will only be if we can reach an agreement the day after tomorrow. If he takes Rindy from me... then no. I don't think I could ever truly forgive that. But I don't believe he'll do that. Not when it comes down to it. I have to believe that underneath it all, the man I married is still there. We weren't unhappy. Not for the most part."

"I... understand that for your daughter it would be best if you and he... maintained a civil relationship. And I do hope that you can do that. But I also hope you can understand that I would rather not have anything to do with him."

"...Of course. I understand. I wouldn't ask that of you."

Carol nuzzled against the back of Florence's neck, inhaling the scent of her, soft perfume mingling with the laundry soap she used, and the smell of Florence beneath it all. It was fast becoming one of her favourite scents. 

"...Are you hungry, darling?"

"Mmmm... a little, but I must confess this is very comfortable minette and I am in no hurry to move..."

"...Perhaps a little rest, and then we should eat before it gets too late. I suspect things close early here. Tomorrow we'll head on to New York and the day after that we'll find out what the future will be I suppose."

Florence squeezed Carol's hand gently, and lifted it to her lips to kiss the back of it. 

"...We'll be alright, minette. We're survivors, you and I. And you do not face this battle alone."

"I know. I love you."

Florence sighed softly, stroking Carol's hand with her thumb, still gazing at the wall, tucked back against Carol's body. 

"...I love you too, minette."


	34. Chapter 34

New York City was a different experience again from the time they had spent on the road, and Florence couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by the buildings and the busyness. Paris had always had a touch of old world charm about in in the honeyed stone and ancient buildings, but all of this was new, even the old parts, and if she had felt like a fish out of water on the road, this was more akin to walking on the moon. It certainly wasn't her world.

The hotel they were in this time, described by Carol as a quiet little place was still the biggest building Florence had seen next to the Town Hall back in New Zebedee. It was certainly very nice, but still unfamiliar, and somehow welcoming and unwelcoming all at once. When she had agreed to come on this trip she hadn't realised quite how different, how disorientating it would all be. As they drove past some of the grand buildings Carol talked of with familiarity and affection, Florence tried to imagine ever feeling at home here. 

She didn't regret coming, no. Far from it. It was becoming more and more obvious as they approached the hotel and the clock ticked down towards the meeting that had been scheduled for eleven the next morning, that Carol did indeed need her there. It was new, and not unwelcome as a sensation. Florence knew already that she would brave worse than this if Carol needed it. It was strange how so much had changed in such a short time, but she certainly didn't regret it. After their conversation about Maurice on the road, Florence had been left with a strange sense of contentment, a certainty that, from beyond the grave, he was smiling on this new chance. He always had loved her so unconditionally. 

Carol set her valise up on the little stand for it and unlatched it, beginning to rummage through, hanging up a dress for the next day so the creases might have a chance to drop out of it. She clucked and fussed at a stain on it, muttering something about getting the hotel to steam it out for her, but Florence waved a hand and it vanished. 

The look Carol shot her was grateful, but the tension remained in her shoulders. 

Florence rose from where she had come to sit on the bed and crossed the room to Carol, gently resting her hands on Carol's shoulders.

"Minette..."

"I'm fine."

"You're not. Nobody would be in your situation. You are under no obligation to be fine. You're scared."

Carol half-turned towards Florence, eyes down, and Florence shifted one hand to take Carol's, almost but not quite embracing her. 

"I... am. Not for me, but... I don't want to... I can't... lose my daughter. I miss her all the time. It aches like a bruise, deep in the bone, it burns in my lungs... the thought that I might never see her again, I... I think I have come to my decision, I think... I think I know what I need to do, what I need to say, but I can't... I have to believe that the man I loved, the man I married, the man I trusted is still there somewhere."

Florence nodded slowly and gently rested her forehead against Carol's, guiding the other woman around so they were facing each other, her hands resting lightly on Carol's waist. 

"You do what you need to do, minette. What you believe you must, what you believe is right. And if the man you once knew is gone, then... well. I promise you that I will not allow your daughter to be taken from you. For now, let justice run its course, but if the path does not run smoothly than I will do what must be done."

Carol's eyes flicked up, full of uncertainty and hope at war with each other. 

"...What do you-"

"I will do nothing without your permission, love. But do not go into that office tomorrow thinking that this is your one chance, and that without it Rindy will be lost to you forever. She will never be lost to you, not by the actions of another, not while I draw breath. And you may at least rest in the knowledge that she is protected as best as I could lend her."

Carol paused, letting the words sink in, watching Florence's face. It was set again, but not as it had been when she was telling her own story. There was a warrior's countenance to it, the kind people should fear, that of someone who had lost everything, a mother with her family ripped from her. It wasn't as though her power was crackling over her skin, not quite, but her quiet voice seemed to echo and Carol could feel it strengthening her spine. 

Florence kissed her forehead, drawing Carol in to rest against her, finally closing that gap to embrace her. 

"...I protect those whom I love. And for better or worse, you have my love, minette. And I will not stand by and see a child harmed, through cruelty direct or indirect, and denying you your daughter for whom you love would be cruel indeed."

Carol wrapped her arms tightly around Florence, holding on as if she were dearer than air, pressing her face against Florence's neck as hot tears finally boiled over out of her control. 

~

Carol took a deep breath, stood outside the door of her lawyer's office for a moment as she tried to collect herself. The receptionist offered her a sympathetic look, and Carol tried for a smile she didn't really feel in gratitude. She appreciated all the sympathy she could find. 

A soft knock and Fred opened the door. 

Harge was already there in his suit, and like the others he stood when she walked in. He reached towards her for a moment but aborted the movement as Fred was the one to take her coat and settle it on the back of her chair. 

It was Jerry Rix who opened the proceedings.

"We expect, given the seriousness of the charges and the incontestability of the evidence that the court will grant sole custody of the child to my client."

Fred held a hand up and interrupted on her behalf. As he spoke, Carol watched Harge and her heart ached at the way he refused to meet her eyes. Maybe there wasn't hope after all.

"Not so fast Jerry. My client's psychotherapist is perfectly satisfied with her recovery from the events of the winter, asserting that she is more than capable of caring for her own child. She's had no further contact with the... the girl in question, and we have sworn depositions from two Saddlebrook Institute psychiatrists clearly stating that in their opinions a series of events precipitated by my client's husband drove her to suffer an emotional break which resulted in the presumed aberrant behaviour-"

Harge launched to his feet, glancing between Fred and Carol, finally looking her in the eye as she all but flinched back.

"That's ABSURD!"

"Furthermore-" 

"Alright Fred if that's how you wanna play it."

"-given the way these tapes were obtained and recorded, we're confident of their inadmissibility in court."

Harge sank slowly back into his seat, and Carol swallowed, knowing this was her moment, reaching out to touch Fred on the arm to capture his attention.

"Fred, please."

"First of all Fred, I wanna see these depositions-" Jerry Rix continued, and Carol's heart was in her mouth as she forced herself to insist again.

"May- may I speak?"

The three men fell silent, watching her, and she took a deep breath, thinking of the courage Florence had shown her time and again. She could feel the earrings in her ears, and although her own power was still nascent she could sense Florence's strength in there, imagining the power wrapped around her like a shield. She set her shoulders and spoke again.

"I won't deny the truth of what's contained in those tapes."

Fred cut in, glancing at the stenographer.

"This is off the record honey."

"May as well be on the record." Carol shifted to finally address her husband directly as Fred stared at her. It had been a long time since they had tried something like that, but communicating through lawyers as intermediaries had only made everything a thousand times worse. She had to appeal to him, to speak to just him, because really at its heart this situation was about them and Rindy, and everyone else was just noise. She had to have faith that the man she had known was still in there somewhere. 

"Harge? I want you to be happy." Harge's eyes were fixed on hers, he kept glancing away but she continued, knowing he was listening. "I didn't give you that, I- I failed you. I mean we both could have given more but... we gave each other Rindy, and that is the most breathaking, the most generous of gifts, so why are we spending so much time trying to keep her from each other?" She could see that he was hearing her, and she knew this was the moment when everything hung in the balance. "Now what happened with Therese, I wanted, and I will not deny it or say that I... but I do regret, and I grieve, for the mess we are about to make of our child's life. And we Harge are both responsible, so I think we... we should set it right." She took a deep breath, pressing a hand for a moment to her ribs in an effort to stem the blood it felt was pouring out of her as she made the sacrifice that needed to be made. "Now I think that Harge should have custody of Rindy-"

Harge looked at her again, looked at her as if really seeing her, and his expression was sad. All in a rush Carol realised that he had never expected that, understood that he had thought, believed, hoped perhaps that Rindy would be enough to keep her, that he had never intended it to get so ugly but that he didn't want to lose her. It was as if this moment was when he finally realised what he had done, and as the lawyers began to wrangle again in a barrage of noise, Carol raised her voice to be heard over the hubbub, fighting with everything she had to keep it together.

"Could I suggest that we just take a break for-"

"No, Fred, will you let me speak because if you don't I will not be able to co-cope. Now I'm no martyr, I have no clue what is best for me, but I do know and I feel it in my bones what is best for my daughter." The tears were fighting through now, her voice cracking and breaking in sobs she wished away, but as she continued, Harge's eyes were locked on her, gazing at her as if she were the only person in the room. "Now I want visits with her Harge. I don't care if they're supervised I just want them to be regular."

Carol pushed herself to her feet, unable to stand it any longer, and gathered up her coat, pulling it on as she continued, needing to escape, "Now there was a time when I would have done almost anything, I would have locked myself away to keep Rindy with me, but what use am I to her, to us, if I'm living against my own grain?" She straightened her lapels. "So that's the deal. I won't, I cannot negotiate anymore. You take it or leave it. But if you leave it, we go to court, and if we go to court, it'll get ugly. And we're not ugly people Harge."

Her voice finally cracked as she turned to leave, and he was still watching her, a man whose entire world was collapsing around him in ruins, finally realising the inevitable truth of what the cracks and showers of dust over the last few months had been signalling.

She ignored Fred calling her name as she left the office, flagging down the nearest cab and tugging a handkerchief from her bag to wipe her eyes as she gave the name of the hotel. This was it. She had done all she could. Now she only had to hope that it had been enough. 

~

When Carol walked back into the hotel, she wasn't really in the mood to stop. She was going back to Florence, going back to her new life, and running away from everything behind her. She wasn't particularly pleased then when one of the bellhops ran out from behind the desk. 

"Excuse me ma'am, are you in room 623?"

"...Yes, why? Can I help you?"

"Are you Mrs Aird ma'am?"

"...Yes, what is it please?"

"There's been an urgent telegram for you ma'am, just got dropped off now. The boy said he was asked to rush it up here from downtown."

"Alright, well, give it to me?"

Carol held her hand out, and the young man handed it over immediately with an apologetic nod of his head. 

Carol walked towards the elevators, opening the folded piece of paper to read. 

She stared at the type in black and white, struggling for a moment to take it all in as a wave of cold then hot washed over her. 

The paper crumpled in her hand as she looked up, taking a moment to steady herself before she carried on to the elevators. She needed to get back to Florence. She needed to get home.


	35. Chapter 35

When Carol opened the door to their hotel room once more, Florence immediately stood from where she had been sitting on the bed, eyes fixed on her, waiting. Carol's expression was unreadable, she had no doubt for a moment that she looked as strange as she felt, joy and relief and grief all warring in her stomach and twisting her up inside. She felt triumphant and not all at once, even though this was far from a Pyrrhic victory. 

"Well?"

It was a sign of how much this mattered, how close they had become that Florence was demanding information rather than letting her come to it in her own time, and Carol understood, let the warmth of it wash over her, feeling almost as though she were sinking into the other woman's regard and love like a hot bath. 

She lifted her hands from where they had been folded in front of her, knuckles white and folded around that small piece of paper. It was a force of will to unfold them, to uncrumple it, and she held it out with a shaking hand. 

"When I arrived back downstairs, this was waiting for me."

Florence took it, eyes flicking between the piece of paper and Carol's own as if searching for a clue as to what she might find there. 

As she read it, Carol finally found the words to explain, as if sharing the news even without words had loosened her tongue where before she had felt entirely mute. 

"...Harge says... that he is willing to return to our original custody agreement, or to negotiate a shared custody agreement which better suits the way... the way my life might change. He suggests that we sell the house and split the proceeds, and... he apologises for any distress he may have caused me."

"/May/ have caused you?"

Florence's tone was incensed, and Carol couldn't help the smile that leapt to her lips. Even in the time she had known her, Carol had come to realise the other woman rarely gave in to strong shows of emotion. It was strange, the way the happiness and relief bubbled up inside her and came out of her mouth as laughter, even as the tears boiled over.

She was trying and failing to blink them away when Florence stepped in to embrace her, and Carol hugged her tight, laughing still as her sniffles were muffled against Florence's neck, then shifting back to kiss her, all of the adrenaline turning into a full-body want that left her mouth dry. There were too many emotions in her to be constrained, she felt like she might explode, even as a more cautious voice in the back of her mind said that this was too much, that it was still too soon for this heat, this need would only cause them both to get burned... and yet Florence was matching her hunger, and it was all Carol could do to catch her breath as her hands went first to the buttons of Florence's dress, and then, in frustration to her own, certain of nothing more than that this barrier between them needed to disappear. 

Florence huffed out a laugh, kissing Carol again as she urged the other woman to turn, easing down the zipper at the back with far more control than Carol could conceive of in this moment with her heart pounding a tattoo against her sternum and her blood thundering in her ears.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt Florence's hand press against the bare skin of her shoulder-blade, and she couldn't help the soft breath of air that escaped her lips.

"Shhh..."

Another laugh, cut short by the press of Florence's lips at the spot where her neck met her shoulder, opposite the side where her hand was still pressed flat against Carol's skin.

She moaned as the zipper was finally tugged down the last torturous few inches, tilting her head back into Florence, into the warmth of her and the feeling of cool air on suddenly bare skin. 

"Are you sure about this?"

Carol tilted her head back, closing her eyes and feeling the brush of her own curls against the nape of her neck, tantalisingly light against the skin. She allowed Florence's voice to wash over her, allowed herself to focus on those small points of contact between them. She wanted this. It wasn't just the sex, although the prospect of that had a certain appeal, it was the intimacy, the affirmation, the celebration of being with this woman and everything that had been survived to lead them to this moment. Quite frankly at this moment there was nothing on earth she could conceive of wanting more. 

"Yes... I've never been more sure of anything in my life..."

Carol paused and half-turned, glancing back, catching Florence's hand. 

"...And you? Are you sure? I know we haven't-"

Florence kissed the corner of her lips, cutting her off before she could derail things. 

"I am certain, minette. Thank you for being prepared to wait."

"I would never rush someone into something they weren't sure of... I know too much about the risks, and your... willingness to trust me is something that's far too precious to me to throw away on brief gratification."

Florence smiled, bright and brilliant, and the kiss this time was perfect and unhesitating, and even as it broke Carol found herself leaning into it, chasing after it, wanting more. Florence's smile turned wicked and Carol marvelled at this side of her she might never have known existed. It was easy to see hints now of the woman Florence had once been so many years ago, and it took her breath away.

"I hope you'll forgive me, then, that I have little experience with a softer partner? Little enough experience at all, truly, if we consider how many years have passed..."

Carol nodded, turning to kiss her, catching the corner of Florence's lips and lingering as she felt them curve up in a smile. 

"I will be gentle? We have no need to rush, after all... and we have all the time in the world to learn each other..."

"It is true that the partner is more important than the act itself..."

Another kiss, the heat low and smouldering and building all the same between them as Florence shifted back to lift Carol's dress over her head at long last, setting it aside. 

Carol took a deep breath as the cold air hit her skin, reaching for Florence again, for the warmth of her, wanting her close, needing her close. 

Florence went to her gladly, laughing as Carol drew her into another kiss, threading her fingers into Florence's hair and tugging it gently to cascade loose around her shoulders before clever fingers reached again for the buttons of her blouse.

Carol almost lingered over it, delicately pushing each tiny button through the fabric, glancing up at Florence under her lashes after every single one, feeling the air between them heat, biting her lip as she felt her heart pounding against her ribs. She wanted this to somehow last, even as she also wanted so very much to uncover every inch of creamy skin. 

The blouse was set aside, the skirt unzipped to join it, and Carol unhooked her own girdle and suspender belt, unclipping the elastic from her stockings and biting her lip as she rolled them down her thighs. She could feel Florence watching her, forced herself to slow down, another long look from under her lashes building the heat higher still. The want in the witch's eyes made her shiver, a physical touch against her skin.

Florence closed the space between them again, drawing Carol against her, skin on skin now as Carol reached around to unhook her girdle in the same way, lost in kiss after kiss. Space between them seemed unnecessary, as did air, with hands exploring and tracing patterns over expanses of skin. Florence nuzzled in closer with a soft gasp as Carol's fingers trailed over her lower back. 

"Oh..."

"Too much?"

"...No, no I... it's just been a very long time... I never thought anyone would look at me again, let alone touch me again like this..."

Carol smiled softly, easing back a breath to take Florence's hands. 

"Would you prefer to slow this down?"

A hesitation, then Florence shook her head. 

"...No. I... My head says yes, we should slow down, but my heart... my heart wants this... I want this. I want to touch you, I want to feel you, to know you, to share in this moment and this joy..."

Carol laughed softly.

"Relief is a funny thing, isn't it? Adrenaline and euphoria... and this is relief, like the end of a nightmare, but it doesn't... change how I feel about you. It doesn't mean that I don't want this."

Florence nodded slowly, taking a deep, shaky breath... but she smiled, and slowly slid her hands up Carol's arms, making every hair stand on end as they slid up and around to unhook her brassiere with one deft movement. Carol's breath in turn caught in her throat as the want which had been slowly easing returned full force. She reached for Florence's in return, meeting her eyes to ask silently for permission. Florence gladly gave it with a smile, and as she eased the silk away Carol had to catch her breath. It wasn't the first time, no, but this felt different, this felt... new and perfect and young.

She kissed Florence again, this time working along her jaw, feeling Florence shivering against her, and Carol nuzzled behind her ear, delighted to find a kiss to that pulse point dragged a ragged gasp from Florence's lips.

"Oh..."

"Darling, perhaps we should move to the bed?"

Florence laughed, her eyes bright with it. 

"...I think I agree with you."

Carol laughed, reaching back to unhook her own girdle, letting it drop and shinning out of her stockings as quickly as she could, giddy with it. 

"Imagine my relief..."

Florence was still laughing as she sat back on the bed, watching her, and Carol crossed to her, bending to capture her lips in another kiss as the joy bubbled between them, easing Florence back to the bed as laughs became moans. Carol went with her, breaking the kiss eventually, when the sweetness of it was almost too much, and dragging kisses along Florence's jaw to the perfect porcelain column of her throat, determined to learn every inch of this woman, all those secret little spots that made her pulse jump and her breath catch and dragged ever more of those sweet little noises from her lips. 

Florence arched and gasped, her own hands roving Carol's body where she could, although she certainly had no issue letting Carol take the lead for the moment. She moaned when Carol kissed down the curve of her breasts, cupping them in her hands, stroking and rolling her nipples, smiling wickedly as she looked Florence in the eye, taking one in her mouth. It felt like an age since she had last been touched like this, like another life entirely, and fire seemed to burn everywhere Carol's lips and fingers traced. 

"Oh... oh..."

She felt Carol's hand shift down her side, over her hip, resting just on the outside of her thigh and Florence spread her legs as if by instinct, inviting more, welcoming her as Carol shifted between her thighs. 

The first touch to her heat made her hips buck off the mattress, and Florence was amazed to be able to look down and see focus on Carol's face. She couldn't imagine having that level of self-control at a time like this. The second brush of a fingertip and there were stars and fireworks behind her eyes as she forgot how to breathe. Pleasure hit her like a body blow, and it was a moment before she could even think to move. Her whole body felt heavy with it, in the best way, like trying to make her limbs move through molasses. 

"What-...?"

She didn't even know how to ask the question, but Carol smiled wickedly in return and pressed a kiss to the inside of Florence's thigh, in a spot she had never realised before could be so sensitive. 

"Alright?"

"...More than alright..."

"Good."

"..." Florence shifted a little, still trying to catch her breath, her eyes roving Carol's body, "...Show me how? For you?"

She sat up, and Carol leaned up into a kiss. Florence gasped, moaning a little at the taste on Carol's lips that she realised had to be her own. 

Carol took one of Florence's hands and guided it to her breast. Florence tilted her head in the kiss, cupping it, marvelling a little at how soft it was, stroking her thumb along the curve of it, then over the nipple, catching Carol's little gasp against her lips. She gently eased Carol back, following her cues, letting Carol guide her, mirroring her earlier actions. Florence was fascinated to discover that Carol's skin tasted different from her lips, it had a salty tang to it which was addictive, and she wanted to learn those little spots on Carol that Carol had been so eager to discover on her. 

She made her way down, settling between Carol's spread thighs, and stared as Carol parted her lips with two fingers. She was slick and pink, and the scent of her was heady in the air. 

Florence leaned down and, almost dazed with it, traced her tongue over Carol's slit, eyes widening as Carol moaned in response, the sound blending with Florence's own reaction to her taste. She had hazy memories of jokes in the cafe days so long ago which she hadn't entirely understood then, but suddenly things certainly seemed to be falling into place. She remembered lovers who had been as eager to give pleasure in that way as to receive it, and she leaned in for another taste, tracing her tongue around the nub, rewarded by a gasp and Carol's knuckles going white as she scrabbled at the sheets. 

At Carol's urging, Florence hesitantly pressed a finger against her, sliding it in slowly, working it in and out of the tight, wet heat as she focussed little cat licks of her tongue around Carol's clit. It hardly seemed long at all before Carol was pressing her hips up and convulsing on Florence's finger. It was the tightening of Carol's fingers in her hair that brought Florence back, and she lifted her head to meet Carol's eyes, hazy with pleasure. 

"Oh... darling I thought you said you'd never been with a woman before?"

Florence blushed, but a smile crept across her face. 

"I haven't..."

"...Well, you could have fooled me... are you...?"

Florence hesitated, then nodded. 

"...I think so. For now. But I'd like to... I would like to do this again? And learn... more about... perhaps about what we both like?"

Carol sat up and kissed her, pulling the sheets up around them both as the goose pimples started to spread. 

"...I think that sounds like an excellent idea. When we get home?"

Florence smiled, settling into the bed and wrapping up around Carol as she pulled the blankets up further. 

"...Yes minette. When we get home."

Carol chuckled and snuggled down with her, nuzzling close and settling her head on Florence's shoulder to listen to her heart rate slowly calm. 

"...I love you."

Florence smiled, combing her fingers gently through Carol's hair. 

"...I know, minette. I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after seven months this journey has finally come to an end, and what a journey it has been... I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined that this strange little germ of an idea for a crossover could have turned into this, let alone everything else it's spawned. When I started this I had no real story in mind, no perfect arc, and some of the things that have happened along the way have been as much of a surprise to me as they have been to you (although they usually surprise me first, and I've intercepted a few curveballs).
> 
> When I began to see the arc of the rest of the story and where it would come to a natural end, I finally had a course to steer to, and now we've reached that end. As sad as it is, it would be doing a huge disservice to a story that I love and am so very proud of, a story that so many of you seem to love too, to force it to carry on to spin out the enjoyment longer. Of course, this is not the end, the sequel is already started, there are other bits and pieces in this series fleshing out what happened before and after, and even alternatives! and I have no doubt that I'll continue to do more with these two in future. I would encourage you to either subscribe to the series or to me to make sure you don't miss anything, and if you love Florence (as I do), consider taking at look at Violet Femmes, which is a different crossover with a different tone to it, which I'm also very excited about.
> 
> Finally it only remains for me to thank those who've played such a vital role in this, my beta reader why, and flightinflame for being a second pair of eyes on some of the historical nuance, and those who've been with this fic from the beginning, kote4kin, SilverOak, and CateAird. Your support has really been invaluable. Of course I appreciate every single reader, every comment, every kudos, so very very much. Thank you from the bottom of my slightly twisted heart.


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